


Turn Left

by LamentableComedy



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Arthur Knows About Morgana's Magic (Merlin), Arthur Thinks Merlin Knows he Knows, Canon Era, Elements of Emotional Hurt/Comfort at Times, Fix-It, Friendship, Gen, Good Morgana (Merlin), Magic Lessons, Magic Revealed, Season/Series 02, it's not a huge part of it though, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:13:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27810565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LamentableComedy/pseuds/LamentableComedy
Summary: Canon divergent from The Nightmare Begins, where Merlin starts giving Morgana magic lessons and Arthur is suspiciously willing to not ask questions about what his servant is up to. Basically a season two fix it story focusing on Merlin and Morgana's friendship.
Relationships: Gwen & Merlin (Merlin), Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin & Morgana (Merlin)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 90
Collections: Merlin Holidays 2020, Merthur Fics





	Turn Left

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DilemmaOf_A_Username](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DilemmaOf_A_Username/gifts).



> For the prompt:  
> Merlin and company getting into shenanigans, solving magical problems, and kicking butt while having a good time!  
> I want a fun gen piece, though relationships on the side aren't a problem. I'm thirsting for friendship and magical crazy times! Anything that can happen in a light-dappled forest or bright castle.  
> I hope this is what you were looking for! It was a lot of fun to write.
> 
> The title is loosely inspired by the title of a Psych episode about how small choices could change how things play out.

“I don’t believe that any of these people have any idea where Morgana is,” Arthur announces.

Merlin half turns around absently picking up laundry and straightening things out, looking at where Arthur’s sitting at his desk. He’s looking over his list of suspected druid sympathizers, or at least seeming to, a half-hearted gesture at following his father’s order to find those who went to ground.

“Sire?” Merlin asks.

“My father’s tactic doesn’t make any sense, the druids have not way of hearing what’s happened to these people and half of them are only suspected on the most tenuous of bases—” Arthur breaks off with a long sigh, cradling his head in his hands, massaging his temples in slow circles.

Merlin’s not sure how he should answer. He fiddles with the hem of one of the shirts he’s holding, waiting.

“Merlin,” Arthur says after a long moment, slowly lifting his head from his hands.

“Yes, sire?”

“Morgana’s a very resilient person.”

“Yeah,” Merlin agrees quickly, “more than most people I know. I’m sure she’s fine, you’ll find her soon.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

Merlin swallows. “What—”

“Morgana’s resilient,” Arthur repeats, pushing back his chair and standing up, “and she’s stubborn. If, for whatever reason, she didn’t want to come back to Camelot, she wouldn’t.”

Merlin doesn’t say anything.

“And,” Arthur continues, levelling his gaze at Merlin, “if my father can’t find Morgana he won’t hesitate to follow through on his threat to execute the prisoners.”

“Right, of course.”

“So if anyone knows where Morgana is and can make her come back before that’s necessary…”  
Merlin blanches. “Arthur, I don’t know anything, I swear.”

“I don’t think you do Merlin, don’t be ridiculous.” Arthur tosses the words out without any of their usual bite. “But considering what happened in her chambers, I wouldn’t be surprised if Morgana didn’t feel safe in Camelot anymore. What she needs,” Arthur looks Merlin dead in the eye, “is someone who knows what she’s going through. Someone who can make sure she doesn’t feel alone.”  
Merlin stares at Arthur. “What are you saying, exactly, sire?”

“Me?” Arthur frowns, exaggerating the expression as he considers Merlin’s question. “I’m not saying anything, Merlin.”

“Right.” Merlin nods slowly. He lifts the laundry in his arms slightly. “I’ll just take these to be washed then, shall I.”

Arthur hums in agreement, turning back to the papers on his desk. Merlin watches him for a moment before slowly heading for the door again.

“Oh, and Merlin?”

Merlin turns around. Arthur glances up from the scroll in his hands.

“Why don’t you take the afternoon to… pick herbs for Gaius, or whatever it is you do.”

“Sorry?”

“You heard me,” Arthur says, moving around his desk to sit back down. “I don’t think I’ll need you for the rest of the afternoon.” When Merlin doesn’t move he looks up from the scroll again. “Go on then, my shirts won’t wash themselves.”

Merlin opens his mouth, then closes it again. Arthur just continues studying the papers on his desk. Merlin stares at him for a long moment before slowly turning around and heading for the laundry room.

* * *

“Arthur knows Morgana has magic.”

Gaius looks up sharply from the book he was studying as Merlin bangs through the door into his chambers.

“What?”

Merlin starts pacing Gaius’ chambers. “And he _might_ know about me, I’m not sure, but he definitely knows about Morgana.”

“Don’t be ridiculous Merlin, how could he possibly know?”

“The same way I did. He saw the window in Morgana’s room too, he could have put it together.”

Gaius moves around to the other side of his work bench. “But you’re a sorcerer, Arthur’s not. You’re just worried about Morgana and that worry’s making you imagine things.”

“No.” Merlin shakes his head, still pacing. “No, I’m not imagining this, you weren’t there, you didn’t hear him.”

“Why, what did he say?”

Merlin stops pacing, looking at Gaius. “He said that Morgana…. probably didn’t feel safe in Camelot? And that she needed someone who would understand her, that this person should go and bring he back before any of the suspects got killed.”

“Merlin, look at this logically,” Gaius says, moving towards him. “From his perspective Morgana’s had a terrible fright and then been kidnapped. Of course she wouldn’t feel safe here after they got her back. As for the rest, Arthur’s always been more reluctant to execute innocent people than his father, I hardly think having a conscious should make you suspicious of him.”

“Gaius… I’m telling you, he knows something.”

Gaius sighs, moving back towards his work bench. “Merlin, if Arthur really knew anything do you think you’d still be here? At most he suspects. All you have to do is keep your head down not act rashly.”

“You just said that he doesn’t like killing innocent people.”

“Yes, but he’s still Uther’s son and loyal to the laws of Camelot, and for the time those laws say that sorcery is illegal.”

Merlin considers this for a beat, then starts for the stairs to his room. “Right. I’ve got to go.”

“Where are you off to now?”

“I’ve got to find Morgana and bring her back,” Merlin calls from his room, yanking up the floorboard where he keeps the spell book Gaius had given him and pulling it out.

“But what if Arthur comes looking for you?”

Merlin hurries back down the stairs, sticking the book into the satchel as he does. “He gave me the afternoon off to collect herbs, just tell him I’m doing that.”

“Merlin…”

“Gaius,” Merlin stops, looking at him, “I can’t let anyone get killed because of this.”

Gaius purses his lips together, then sighs, relenting. “Alright.” Gaius turns back to his book. “Just promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”

* * *

Merlin walks for hours, wending his way through the forest of Essetir as the sun slowly sinks lower and lower in the sky. He only has the vaguest idea where he's going, hoping in what was probably a bit of wishful thinking that he can trust some kind of instinct to help him find the druid camp. He does his best to rack his brain for some of the hunting nonsense Arthur’s always going on about that could be used to pick up on Morgana’s trail, but all Merlin comes up with is a vague recollection of how to use fewmets, which somehow don’t actually seem that useful in this particular case.

Dusk falls, and the woods around him are cast in shadows. Sighing, Merlin sits down by a small copse for a break.

  
He’s fumbling in his bag for the water skin he’d packed when a sharp shriek cuts through the air. Merlin jumps to his feet, hurriedly shoving everything back into his bag and taking off in the direction of the sound. He sprints through the trees, jumping over logs and dodging branches before skidding to a halt in a clearing. Morgana is splayed on the ground, a man in a dark cloak kneeling over her. He starts to raise his head and, on instinct, Merlin flings out his hand in front of him.

“ _Oferswing_!”

The man raises his arm to deflect the spell, but still stumbles backwards. Merlin is hurrying towards Morgana when a second, smaller figure emerges from the shadows behind where the man had fallen.

_Hello, Emrys._

Merlin freezes.

The small figure pushes back its hood, revealing a pale face and dark hair.

“Mordred.” Merlin swallows. “What are you doing here?”

_I heard Morgana call out, just like you. Mordred looks down at Morgana. Merlin follows his gaze and for the first time notices a dark stain spreading through the skirt of her dress. She’s hurt. We can help her._

“I’ve got to get her back to Camelot.”

“She’ll be safer with us.”

Merlin swivels his head away from Mordred. The man, a druid Merlin now realizes, is slowly pushing himself to his feet.

“The boy’s right, we can heal her, but we should take her back to our camp.”

Merlin stands up, shaking his head. “I can’t let you do that. The king thinks she’s been kidnapped, if you take her to your camp you’ll all be in danger.”

“She’s been stung by a serket, if you want to see her live until morning you’ll let her come with us.”

“You’re not listening to me, if the king finds her with you, you’ll all be killed! I can take her to the court physician—”

_We’re losing time._

Merlin looks between Mordred and the man, pursing his lips. Mordred’s bright eyes are boring into him. Merlin sighs. “Fine. But as soon as she’s cured, we need to get back to Camelot.”

The man smiles. “Excellent. My name is Aglain. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Emrys.”

* * *

Merlin spends most of the night pacing, enough to make a noticeable track in the ground in front of the tent-like structure where they put Morgana. The camp’s healers swept Morgana off as soon as they’d arrived, and insisted that Merlin not disturb her, so all he could do was wait. Eventually a druid came out and told him that they’d finished dressing her wound and that she needed her rest. Merlin had shuffled along behind as they carried her to another, smaller tent and taken up pacing as he waited for Morgana to wake up.

_Emrys._

Merlin looks up sharply, stopping in his tracks. Mordred was standing by a tree, looking at him.

“What?” Merlin asks tersely.

We should go in.

“I’m not allowed, they said she needs her rest.” Merlin slowly starts moving again, looking at his boots.

_She’s woken up._

Morgana is sitting up in bed talking to Aglain. Both of them looked over as Merlin gently pushes aside the cloth hanging that covers the entrance to enter.

“Merlin!” Morgana pushes herself up a little straighter. “What are you doing—” She breaks off as she noticed Mordred behind him and her eyes go wide. “It’s you.”

_Hello Morgana._

Morgana looks sharply to Aglain. “Did you hear that?” She looks back to Mordred. “How did you do that?”

“We don't always need words to speak to one another,” Aglain says.

Mordred crosses to the bed, smiling. Out loud, he says, “Now I can take care of you like you did me.”

Aglain watches Mordred for a moment then turns to Merlin, still standing just inside the entrance. “You see? Your friend could be much happier here than she is under Uther’s thumb.”

“Right, assuming his men don’t kill you all first.”

Morgana looks up at him. “Merlin? What are you talking about? What’s happened?”

“The King thinks you've been kidnapped.” Merlin takes a few steps into the tent, “We’ve got to go back to Camelot, he won't stop until you're found.”

“We can move our camp,” Aglain says. “It’s nothing we haven’t done before. We are well accustomed to dealing with Uther’s raids.”

“You’re the one who said I should seek out the druids,” Morgana tells Merlin. “Now you’re asking me to tun back before I’ve even gotten any answers.”

“What answers do you seek?” Aglain asks, leaning forward.

“Why I can see the future in my dreams,” Morgana tells him, looking down at her hands. “Why I'm able to start fires with my mind.”

Aglain looks at her sympathetically. “People who are able to do this are few and far between. You have a gift.”

Morgana looks up at him, her eyes wide. “Is it magic?”

“Of a kind, yes.”

Morgana doesn’t look surprised. She takes in the information and nods, almost imperceptibly. Mordred is still standing next to her bed and he reaches out to take her hand, squeezing it softly.

Aglain continues, “But it will be many years before you’re able to understand it fully, let alone use it. I understand your friend’s concern, and I agree that we should be quick to act to avoid the coming raid, but I think you should consider staying with us. We have many teachers, and in time you could learn much from us.”

Morgana’s eyes are still open wide, but they’re glistening now and there’s a soft eagerness to her voice. “Really?”

Aglain nods solemnly. “I assure you Lady Morgana, this isn't something to be afraid of. I know what Uther’s views are, but he is mistaken. Magic isn't a dark art that must be shrouded in secrecy. It can be a force for good.”

“Morgana, you can’t,” Merlin takes a step forward. “I’m really sorry, I am,” he tells Aglain, “I agree with what you’re saying, but, Morgana— you have to got to come back."

“Are you listening to yourself, Merlin?” Morgana looks at him, frowning. “They understand me here, I don’t have to feel alone.”

“And what about the people in Camelot? The suspected magic users, people who opposed the purge. Uther’s arrested dozens of them, Morgana. He’s ordered his men to look for more, he’ll execute them all if you’re not found.”

“If I return, the same fate awaits me.”

“Uther doesn't need to know about this. I won't tell a soul.”

“Merlin, you don’t understand what you’re asking. If I go back now…”

“You’ll live in constant fear,” Merlin finishes for her. “You’ll have to hide a part of yourself that you didn’t ask for, that you know can be helpful and good and do so many amazing things, but that people will only see as harmful. I know—” Merlin takes a deep breath. “I know you think I don’t understand, but I do. Really.”

Morgana looks up at him, a slight frown formed between her eyebrows as her gaze searches his face. “Do you…”  
Merlin nods silently.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You’re Uther’s ward."

“That doesn’t mean I share his paranoia! I have magic myself, do you really think I would turn you in.”

“I couldn’t be sure! You just found out about it, for all I knew you’d think your nightmares were a curse to be lifted, instead of a gift you could learn to control.”

Hurt flares up in Morgana’s eyes. “Do you really think so little of me?”

“I’m just a servant, Morgana. Who cares if a servant gets executed.”

Morgana pulls herself up so she was sitting as straight at she could. “I would _never_ let that happen.”

“Right,” Merlin says, crossing his arms over his chest. “But you’d let dozens of people in Camelot get killed because you want to stay here? You can’t have one rule for your friends and another rule for the common people, that makes you just the same as Uther!”

Morgana’s hands tighten on the blankets and her jaw clenches. Merlin forces himself to hold her gaze, keenly aware of Aglain and Mordred still in the tent, watching the two of them closely.

Swallowing some of his bitterness, Merlin adds more gently, “Please, Morgana. Prove you’re not as self-serving as he is. Come back to Camelot.”

Morgana hesitates. Her gaze flits to where Aglain is sitting and then to Mordred. “You haven’t seen what I’ve seen, Merlin,” she says at last, her voice small. Mordred climbs up onto the bed and she puts an arm around him, her hand lightly stoking his shoulder. “Every night— Every time I close my eyes to sleep—” Morgana’s voice breaks and she brings her free hand up to wipe her eyes.

“You’re right,” Merlin answers. His shoulders collapse a little and he takes a small step towards her. “I have no idea what that’s like. But—” his gaze shoots over to Aglain and he takes a deep breath. “I can still help. Maybe not with your dreams, but with the rest of it. Look.” He sticks his hand into his bag and pulls out the book he brought with him. “Here,” he holds it out to her, “take a look.”

Cautiously, Morgana leans forward and takes it from him. Merlin watches her slowly turn through the pages.

“Merlin, this is….”

“I know.” Merlin bites his lip, hoping dearly that this will work. “And there’s more, things I taught myself, spells not in the book. I could show you.”

Morgana tears her eyes away from the book, her gaze falling on Merlin instead. “Really?”

Aglain looks between the two of them. He sighs in resignation. “If you do decide to leave you are more than welcome to return. We can tell you how to find us”

“See?” Merlin says, tilting his head towards Aglain. “You’re not giving up their help, not forever. And in the meantime I can show you anything you want, but please, Morgana.” He swallows. “We’re running out of time, we’ve got to go back to Camelot. _Please_.”

* * *

It’s nearly midday when Arthur and his knights find them in the forest. Merlin and Morgana had been moving slowly, Morgana leaning on Merlin’s shoulder as she limped along beside him. As soon as he catches sight of them through the thinning trees, Arthur dismounts and hurries towards them.

“Morgana, are you alright? What happened?”

“I’m fine, Arthur, really,” she says with a tight smile. “Nothing a visit to Gaius won’t fix.”

Arthur’s expression is still worried, and he turns around, calling out over his shoulder, “A horse for the Lady Morgana.” Turning back to her, he asks, “Can you ride?”

Morgana nods. “Yes, thank you.”

A knight comes forward, leading a horse. He helps Morgana up and leads the horse back towards the group. Arthur hangs back, giving Merlin a terse nod.

“Good job, Merlin.”

“Was that a compliment?”

Arthur shrugs. “Well even you’ve got to get it right sometimes. Now come on.” He claps Merlin on the the shoulder and starts back towards the group of knights. “You can tell me the details on the way.”

* * *

“It seems that we were mistaken.”

Arthur is standing before Uther, his arms folded over his chest. Morgana was rushed to Gaius as soon as they’d gotten back, who’d told her in no uncertain terms that she was to stay in bed and rest up. Arthur had been called to the throne room, and Merlin had followed, watching from the side as Arthur explains to Uther the story that Merlin and Morgana had come up with.

“The druids had nothing to do with Morgana’s disappearance,” Arthur continues. “It was two brigands hoping to hold her for ransom. When all three of them were attacked last night, the kidnappers fled and left Morgana behind. If it weren’t for Merlin here, then I don’t know if we would have found her in time.”

“Well,” Uther says, leaning back in his throne, “I must thank you, Merlin. You have proven yourself to be a trustworthy and loyal servant of the realm.”

Merlin nods awkwardly.

Uther smiles at him in that unnerving way that always feels just a little too fake for Merlin’s liking. Returning his attention to Arthur, he asks, “And what became of the kidnappers?”

“Morgana didn’t see their faces, but I’ve told the patrols to be on alert.”

Merlin studies Arthur. He hasn’t seen him speak with any of the guards, or the knights in charge of patrols, and Merlin and Morgana were deliberately vague on anything about the fictitious bandits themselves when giving Arthur their hastily-constructed story of the past day’s events.

Uther sighs. “Hm. Let’s hope they turn something up, but in the meantime we should probably post extra guards outside of Morgana’s chambers.”

“Respectfully, I’m not sure that would be the best for Morgana’s well-being.”

Uther raises one eyebrow at Arthur.

“She’s been through a lot. I don’t think that adding more guards will make her feel more secure as much as they’re just add to any lingering anxiety. I’m sure that adding more patrols in the courtyard and in the main hallways that lead to her room would be more than sufficient.”

Uther considers this, running his thumb slowly back and forth along the side of his fist. “You may have a point. Very well.” He nods. “Add those patrols, and keep me updated on any developments in the search for the kidnappers.”

“Of course.” Arthur turns to leave the hall.

“Oh… And leave the people we’ve arrested in the dungeons for another day,” Uther adds as an afterthought. “We need to make it clear that there are still consequences to sympathizing with the druids.”

Arthur pauses for a moment before nodding and pushing through the door.

Merlin has to hurry to catch up with him. “Arthur, you can’t leave those people in prison, the druids had nothing to do with it, and even if they did, those people don’t deserved to punished just because you _think_ —”

“Merlin.” Arthur spins around, stopping Merlin in his tracks. “Don’t you think you should go check on Morgana?”

“What? Have you heard anything I’m saying?”

Arthur sighs. “What I’ve heard, Merlin, is a lot of nonsense. And you’re lucky that I don’t pay attention to your nonsense as as rule, otherwise I might have to put you in the stocks for something that could be easily misconstrued as insubordination and going against the king.” Arthur gives him a pointed look. “Now. I’ve got to go down to the dungeons and tell the guards there that they won’t be needed tonight. Why don’t you check on Morgana and find me when you’re done, hmm?”

He turns to walk down the hallway again. Merlin stays where he is, his eyes narrowing. “I know what you’re doing,” he calls out after Arthur.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Merlin,” Arthur calls back. “You’re imagining things.”

* * *

Morgana is eager to start learning magic as quickly as possible, even though she’s still stuck in bed recovering. Merlin insists that they wait, if for no other reason than because he can’t very well spend hours in her chambers without arousing some suspicion. Morgana agrees, reluctantly, on the condition that Merlin lend her the book Gaius had given him. He does, though he doesn’t see how much use she’ll get out of it with Gwen hovering around her chambers all day.

Finally, after a week, Gaius clears Morgana, announcing that the wound is fully healed and that, aside from a scar, there should be no lasting harm. That evening, Morgana meets Merlin in an unoccupied gust chamber after dinner, and they start in earnest.

Merlin doesn’t know that he’s much of a teacher. He’d found out most of what he knows through trial and error on his own, and while Morgana has a quick ear for spells and an eagerness to learn, drawing on her magic doesn’t come as immediately to her as it always has to Merlin. He tries to explain how to do a particular spell, and finds himself at a loss for words, unable to articulate how he called up the power to cast it any more than he could have explained how he learned how to breathe. Morgana’s tenacious, though, and with each meeting she’s more determined than the one before. After a few weeks she’s managed to lift quills and bits of parchment a few inches into the air and hold them there, and started to make progress on moving them about at will, so Merlin decides to move them on to conjuring.

“I just don’t see why this is so hard!” Morgana says, flinging her hands into the air.

They’re working in Gaius’s chambers, Gaius himself having made a trip to one of the outlying villages to deal with an outbreak of a minor illness there. Morgana runs one hand through here hair, pushing it back from her face, and leans in closer to inspect the book before her.

“I’ve done this completely without meaning to, I should be more than capable of summoning fire when I _actually_ want it.”

Merlin clicks his tongue sympathetically. “Sometimes it’s not that simple. Here,” he reaches out and takes the book, shutting it and setting it aside. “Hold out your hand.”

Morgana rolls her eyes, but obeys without protest.

“Don’t force it, don’t try to think about what you want to happen or calling on you magic, just… think about what fire feels like. The warmth of the flames, how its light looks—”

“The smell of the pyres?” Morgana’s tone is dark. Her words hang between them for a long moment before Merlin slowly lowers his outstretched hand.

“Are you still having nightmares?” he asks, one finger tracing the grain of Gaius’s workbench.

Morgana shrugs. “They’re not— You know.” She shakes her hair back and sat up a little straighter. “They’re not seer dreams, I’ve had mercifully few of those lately. But…” She hesitates.

“That doesn’t make them any less frightening?” Merlin supplies.

“Hardly.”

“Have…” Merlin starts, cautiously a glancing up at Morgana, still running his finger along the smooth wood. “Have you thought about taking Gaius’ sleeping draughts again?”

Morgana shakes her head. “ _No_. It stops the normal nightmares but that only means I have more seer dreams. These are bad but at least I can tell myself they won’t happen with some degree of confidence.”

“Are you sure? He could try a new recipe, maybe, or—”

“No.” Morgana holds up a hand, stopping him. “Thank you, Merlin, but please… just let it alone, alright?”

Merlin nods, and Morgana gives him a faltering smile, her gaze falling to the workbench a second later. Merlin watches her for a long moment, unsure of what to say.

Then he claps his hands together, inhaling sharply. “Alright,” he says, leaning forward with a smile and planting his hands on the table.

“Why don’t we try something different.”

Morgana is a lot better at conjuring butterflies— Merlin’s interested to see that when she finally manages to produce one it comes out green instead of blue like his— and over the next few sessions she’s able to move onto flowers and even a snail. Merlin doesn’t try to bring up the matter of fire again, but he finds himself lying awake more than once wondering how many burnings Morgana has seen.

He’s helping Gwen to fold sheets one afternoon when he thinks to bring the topic up. “So… Ah, you’ve known Morgana a long time?”

Gwen looks up from the pillowcase she’s shaking out. “Ever since she came to Camelot. Why?”

Merlin shrugs. “You know…” He pulls a sheet out of the basket and struggles to fold it by himself before Gwen comes forward to take one end from him. “I was just thinking.”

“About what?” Gwen shakes the sheet briskly and holds the corners out at arms length. Merlin steps forward, lining up her corners with his and taking them from her.

“I just supposed,” Merlin says, choosing his words carefully as he and Gwen fold the sheet the other way, “that— well, growing up in Cenred’s kingdom I heard a bit about Uther’s perspective on sorcery, but I didn’t know the full extent of it until I came here. I was just wondering, I guess, how that was for Morgana? Growing up with Gorlois, I mean, then coming to Camelot as a child.”

Merlin steps forward again to take the corners of the sheet from Gwen, avoiding her gaze. As he folds it the last few times by himself, he cautiously looks up at her. She’s standing with her hands on he hips, lips pursed, considering Merlin with a look that seems curious, but not suspicious. Merlin drops his gaze again and busies himself with rearranging the stacks of folded laundry.

At last Gwen sighs and looks away, plucking a pillowcase from the basket. “I don’t know,” she says, starting to fold it. “She didn’t talk to me much when she first came to Camelot. I wasn’t her maid for the first year she was here, I’d just build the fire in her room sometimes— or I’d take Elyan to watch the training and she’d be there. I do know that she asked Uther if she could have a different room, though. After the first execution she saw.”

“And he didn’t let her?”

Gwen shakes her head. “I don’t know what happened. I’m not even sure Morgana would have told him _why_ she wanted a different room.”

Gwen sets aside the pillowcase and picks up another. “By the time I became her serving-maid she usually would just close the window and not watch.” Gwen grimaces. “But you can usually smell it in her chamber,” she adds, “if they’re burned.”

Merlin’s silent as this information sinks in. He picks at the corner of a folded sheet in the pile with his thumbnail, trying not to think of his first day in Camelot. Or Will’s body on his funeral pyre.

“Why do you want to know about this, anyway?” Gwen asks him.

Merlin shrugs. “Like I said, just curious I guess.” He bends down to scoop up the folded laundry and drops it into the empty basket. “I should probably get this put away.”

“Merlin…”

“Oh, and could you tell Morgana that I’m going to get herbs tonight? Gaius is making her a new healing draught.”

“Of course. But Merlin—”

“Sorry,” Merlin interrupts. “I’ve got to get this taken care of in time to get Arthur out of his armour. Talk to you later?”

Gwen sighs. “Alright. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Sounds good!”

* * *

As soon as he’s finished putting away the folded linens, Merlin hurries out into the courtyard and towards the castle gates, barely sparing a glance for the training yards. It wasn’t as though what he’d told Gwen had been a total lie, Arthur did have practice that afternoon. He’d just need to find someone else to help him out of his armour. Merlin hurries out of the courtyard and weaves his way through the lower town, slowing slightly as he approaches the southern gate. There are guards stationed there, as usual, and the street is fairly empty, it being too early still for the merchants and farmers to be closing up shop and heading back home for the evening. Merlin hesitates, tucked just inside the gap between two buildings, casting around for something he could use. Finally, his gaze lands on a cart that someone had left a few metres up the street from where he was standing.

“ _Ċyr._ ”

The cart slowly starts rolling forward, and Merlin gives it the slightest nudge with his magic to keep it on track. The guards glance over their shoulders at the sound as it gets closer, and do a double take as they say what was coming towards them. As it rumbles past them and out the gate, they started after it, running to catch up and stop it. Merlin slips out of his hiding place and hurries through the gate and off towards the Forest of Brechfa.

It doesn’t take him as long as he’d expected to find the druid camp. They’re well hidden, and they’ve put more work than usual into obfuscating their location, but Aglain had told Merlin what to look for and how to use his magic to show the way, and so he reaches the outskirts of the camp before evening.

He slows down as he approaches, unsure of the best way to proceed.

_Hello, Emrys._

Merlin whips around and sees Mordred standing beside him.

“I’ve come to see Aglain. I need to talk to him about Morgana.”

Mordred smiles. _I’ll take you to him._

“Er. Thanks.”

Several of the druids look up as Merlin and Mordred pass, and Merlin ducks his head to try and avoid their intent stares. Finally, they reach Aglain sitting in a small group with other healers. Merlin approaches them and cleared his throat.

Aglain turns around at the sound. “Ah. Welcome, Emrys. What brings you to us today?”

“Morgana’s been having nightmares.”

“Yes, and as I recall you convinced her not to seek help from us on that matter.”

“No— I mean, she’s been having regular nightmares, not prophetic ones. Gaius’s sleeping draughts might work on them, I don’t know, but she won’t take them, she says they make the seer dreams worse. I was wondering if you’ve got anything that could help.”

“We could make something. It wouldn’t be perfect, but it would certainly surpass your physician’s remedies, especially in terms of managing Lady Morgana’s visions.”

“That’s amazing! Thank you so much, I—”

“However,” Aglain holds up one hand, cutting Merlin off, “it will not be a perfect solution. And if I help you with this I want your assurance that you will find a time when she can work with us to control her gifts more fully. You are a great sorcerer, Emrys, and I— like many here— have every faith the future you could one day bring for our people. But you are not a seer, and you are not the one to provide Morgana with the help that she needs.”

Merlin nods. “Of course. I’ll… I’ll talk to her. I’m sure she could arrange a time to meet with you.”

Aglain bows his head slightly. “Thank you. Please, have a seat, I’ll be back with the sleeping draught shortly.”

Aglain moves off towards the nearest tent and Merlin cautiously takes his empty place in the circle of healers. A few are still looking at him, but most of them return to talking quietly among themselves. Merlin looks down at his boots, bouncing one heel anxiously.  
Mordred had stayed nearby for all of Merlin and Aglain’s conversation, and now he approaches the druid next to Merlin and taps her on the shoulder, whispering something in her ear. She slides over on the log she’s seated on, pulling her robes aside as she does and Mordred swings one leg, then the other over the log so that he can sit in the space she clears. Merlin glances up to find Mordred fixing him with a somewhat eerie stare.

“What?” he asks.

 _Do you really want to help Morgana?_ Mordred asks him in his head.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I?”

_You didn’t want to help me._

“Hey…” Merlin glances furtively around the circle.

_Don’t worry, They can’t hear what I’m saying, only you._

“But I thought… I mean, in the tent the other day when you were talking to Morgana…”

 _I can choose who I talk to this way, Emrys._ Mordred smiles. _You could learn to as well, if you wanted._

Merlin hesitates. “I think I’m alright, thanks,” he says slowly.

Mordred leans his head on one side, considering this. Then he shrugs. _You still haven’t answered me. I thought I could trust you, Emrys, how do I know you won’t change your mind about Morgana too?_

Merlin swallows, looking down. “That’s different.”

_How?_

“You were— Someone told me not to help you. Someone who knows a lot more than I do.”

_What did this person tell you about me?_

Merlin considers Mordred. He’s dressed much like everyone else in the camp, with a green cape over his clothes. Aside from the druid’s robes he doesn’t look any different than the children Merlin grew up with.

“I don’t think I should tell you that,” he answers at last.

_Has this person told you anything about Morgana?_

“They have…”

 _What?_ Mordred’s eyes don’t leave Merlin’s and his face doesn’t give any clues to what he might be feeling.

Merlin licks his lips. His knee is still bouncing anxiously. “Something a lot like what they said about you.”

 _You helped me anyway,_ Mordred presses. _And you’re helping Morgana. If this person knows so much more that you, why not listen to them?_

“Maybe—” Merlin stops. He takes a deep breath. “Maybe you’re worth helping anyway. Maybe I want to believe that what’s to come doesn’t have to be set in stone.”

Mordred is still looking at him, his eyes burning into Merlin’s face. Merlin forces himself not to blink or look away.

“I believe you,” Mordred announces out loud with some finality. “Thank you, Emrys.”

“Of course.”

Despite following their conversation, Merlin doesn’t feel like he has any idea why he’s being thanked, and a large part of him is fairly certain he doesn’t deserve it. Mordred seems satisfied though, he finally looks away form Merlin, swinging his legs a little as he stares up at the branches stretching between them and the darkening sky.

After what feels like an interminable wait, Aglain returns, carrying a round glass bottle about the size of an apple.

“Here.” He holds it out to Merlin. “One swallow each evening should be sufficient.”

“Thank you.” Merlin takes it, standing up. “I’ll get it to her right away.”

“Very good. And Emrys…”

Merlin looks up from examining the bottle. “Yes?”

“Be sure you keep your word.”

“Yeah.” Merlin nods. “Yeah, of course. I’ll make sure she comes to see you as soon as possible.”

“Excellent. I wish you the best of luck on your trip back.”

Merlin takes this as a dismissal and nods again, giving a brief wave over his shoulder to the other druids.

As he starts to go, Mordred’s voice echoes in his head. _See you soon, Emrys. Tell Morgana I’ll see her soon, too._

* * *

It’s late when he gets back to Camelot. The western gate is the most sparsely guarded in the evenings so rather than reenter the way he’d left Merlin circles around the city walls to enter on that side. He gets through the lower town without much trouble and makes it past the newly increased guard in the courtyard with a well-timed disturbance far from the gate. By the time the men on duty realize it was nothing more than a falling crate, he’s inside the castle and halfway to Morgana’s chambers.

“Merlin.”

Merlin stops in his tracks at the sound of Arthur’s voice. He grimaces, then forces his face into a smile and turns around. “Arthur.”

Arthur walks towards him, slowly. “Do you know what I’ve been wondering, Merlin?”

“No idea.”

“ _I’m_ wondering,” Arthur repeats, still moving closer, “what could have kept you so busy this afternoon that you could help with my armour. Or serve me at dinner. Or help me prepare for bed, although now I’m seeing that you are available for that so that saves me finding another servant for the job.”

“Er…”

“Hm? What’s that?”

“I was… running an errand for Gaius,” Merlin goes with, deciding to keep his story at least somewhat consistent in case Arthur’s spoken to Gwen lately. “He needed some herbs for one of Morgana’s sleeping draughts.”

“Morgana?” All the annoyance instantly vanishes from Arthur’s voice. “How is she?”

Merlin’s taken aback by Arthur’s abrupt change in demeanour. “Er… fine?” he says. “I think. Uh, Gaius has been trying out a new recipe so—”

Arthur waves him off. “No, I mean how _is_ she? Really.”

Merlin narrows his eyes slightly, searching Arthur’s face for hidden motivations. “How do you think she is?”

“How should I know? That’s why I’m asking you.”

“Well you saw her at dinner, I’m sure you could’ve asked after her health then. Or anytime, really, it’s not like you’ve got someone ordering you about around the clock.”

“Right, but I’m not asking about Morgana’s _health_ , Merlin, I’m asking _you_ how she’s been since you brought her back from those kidnappers.”

Merlin’s heartbeat picks up and his hand twitches towards the vial in his pocket. “Has there been any word about them by the way?”

Arthur sighs. “Don't change the subject, Merlin.”

“What? You’re the one so concerned with how Morgana’s doing.”

“Yes, Merlin, and you won’t tell me!”

“Well I don’t see why you’d think I know better than anyone else.”

“Neither do I, but there still must be some point my asking, _mustn’t there?_ ” Arthur grits out the last two words, lifting his eyebrows and staring at Merlin expectantly.

Merlin leans slightly away from him. “In that case she’s fine?” He says cautiously.

Arthur nods curtly. “Good.”

Merlin watches him, eyes still narrowed. “Can I go then?”

“Of course. Give Morgana my best.”

“I never said I was going to see Morgana.”

“You have to deliver her that sleeping draught don’t you? You have a perfectly good reason tonight.”

Merlin nods slowly. “Tonight. Right…”

“Don’t take too long, Merlin,” Arthur tells him. “I still need your help preparing for bed.”

“Or you could learn to undress yourself for once.”

Arthur just snorts and claps Merlin on the shoulder before heading towards his chambers. Merlin watches him for a long beat, then shakes himself and continues on toward’s Morgana’s bedroom.

He has to knock twice before she opens her door, and even then only a crack.

“Hi, it’s me,” Merlin says in a low voice.

“Merlin? What are you doing here?”

He glances over his shoulder down the hallway. “Can I come in?”

“Yes, of course.” She steps back, opening the door further.

Merlin steps inside and Morgana closes the door behind him. “Did Gwen give you my message?” he asks her.

“She did, but I’ve told you Merlin, I’m not taking any more of Gaius’ sleeping draughts, they don’t do anything.”

“I wasn’t going for Gaius.”

“Then what—”

“I was going to see the druids. And they gave me,” he produces the bottle from his pocket, “this.”

Morgana takes it from him, turning it over in her hands. “What is it?”

“You’re supposed to take one swallow each evening. Aglain said it would work better than Gaius’s.”

“Are you sure?”

Merlin nods. “Yeah. Not just on your seer dreams, either, it should work on normal nightmares as well.”

Morgana looks up at him. “Merlin—”

“It won’t be perfect!” Merlin adds quickly. “And Aglain wants you to go see the druids soon so that you can start learning to control your dreams a bit better, but it should do something.”

Morgana smiles. “Thank you Merlin, I’ll try it tonight.” She turns and set the bottle on her bedside table. Turning back to Merlin, she notices his expression and frowns. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!”

Morgana scoffs. “Please, Merlin. I know you’ve got your secrets and I haven’t tried to pry them out of you, but after the past few weeks I can tell when you’re worried about something. Did something happen at the druid camp?”

“No,” Merlin says quickly, shaking his head. “Well—“ he pauses, considering if he should say something about his conversation with Mordred. “No, nothing happened.”

“What is it then?”

“Er…” Merlin shifts his weight where he’s standing. He still doesn’t know quite what to make of Arthur’s recent behaviour, and he doesn’t want to alarm Morgana. But, on the other hand, if he were in her shoes he’d want to be warned. “I ran into Arthur on my way back and I _think_ …” Merlin bites his lip, hesitating. “I think he _might_ know about us.”

Morgana stares at him for a long second before she throws her head back with a great peal of laughter. When she finally reigns herself in, she takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.

“I’m sorry,” she says, the corners of her lips still twitching. “I’m sure you have a good reason for thinking that, but honestly, _Arthur_? He’s about as observant as a lump of wood.”

“No,” Merlin shakes his head, “he definitely knows something. He said some things when you first went to see the druids too that mad me think he might but I thought I was just imagining things, now…” He trails off, clicking his tongue softly. “If he doesn’t know about our magic then he certainly thinks he knows something.”

“Alright,” says Morgana in a tone that makes it abundantly clear she’s just humouring him. “What did he say?”

“Which time?”

“Both.”

Merlin fills her as best as he can remember, trying to present it as cohesively and concisely as he can. When finishes, Morgana gives him a pitying look.

“Oh, Merlin.”

“What?”

She rolls her eyes. “ _None_ of that makes it seems like he things either of us has magic. He clearly thinks we’re conducting some kind of secret courtship.”

“What?” Merlin splutters. “Where on earth are you getting that from?”

Morgana gives an exaggerated sigh. “From all of it? It couldn’t be more obvious, and, no offence intended, but he couldn’t be further off about my… interests in that regard.”

“Yeah, well…” Merlin glances at her. “Likewise.”

“Ri— Wait? Really?”

“Yeah.”

“So, Gwen?”

Merlin shakes he head. “We’re friends. And I do love her, but not like that. We’re not… you know, _that_ , any more than the two of us are.”

“Hm.” Morgana studies him for a moment, then shakes her head, getting herself back on subject. “Anyway, Arthur’s harmless. We might as well let him keep up his delusions. It provides a convenient cover at the very least.”

“Yeah, but…” Merlin flounders for some counterargument. “What if he tells someone?”

Morgana smirks. “He won’t. You can tell that from what he said to you. Besides, he wouldn’t want to do anything that would make Uther try to get rid of you.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t know if you’re right about that.”

“Merlin. He’s never had a manservant that’s managed to last more that two weeks, let alone close to a _year_.”

Merlin blinks, surprised. “Oh.”

“Exactly. So we’re safe.”

* * *

Merlin still decides to keep an eye on Arthur. Everything _seems_ normal, but Merlin occasionally catches Arthur looking at him during strange moments and Merlin can’t shake the feeling that for as much as he’s watching Arthur, Arthur is watching him right back. He doesn’t bother bringing it up with Morgana again, she’s busy enough getting ready for her trip to the druids. They decide that the best cover is to claim that she’s going on a pilgrimage to her father’s tomb, it’s a long enough trip that Uther won’t question her being gone the full day, and she makes it often enough that it’s not an odd request. The challenge is convincing him to let her go alone.

Morgana suggests everything from requesting Merlin accompany her to giving Gwen the slip once they’re in the woods to enchanting one of the knights so that he won’t remember anything from the trip. Merlin isn’t totally sold on the first suggestion, and he does his best to steer them as far away from the last as possible. In the end, Morgana just lies. She tells Uther she’ll be making the pilgrimage with Gwen, only to give her the day off and set out alone towards the Forest of Brechfa. Merlin watches her for as long as he can from Arthur’s window hoping that nothing goes horribly wrong.

* * *

Nothing does, thankfully enough, and Morgana returns full of glowing stories about connecting with the natural world and the triple goddess, and wearing a necklace she said Mordred’s made for her. He’s made a similar charm for Merlin as well, apparently, which she gives to him at their magic session the next day. Merlin studies at it skeptically, but takes it from her without comment.

“They have a lot of ways of divining, apparently,” Morgana tells him, her eyes shining. “Seers are rare, but most people with magical talent, or who have trained long enough can learn to scry using a mirror or a pool of water. They didn’t tell me much about it this time, they’re more focused on teaching me to manage what I can already do. Apparently though,” she leans across the table between them, pushing a strand of hair back with one fluid motion, “the most powerful kind of scrying is done using crystals.”

“Crystals?”

Morgana nods. “There’s apparently a cave full of them, but there are a few that people have taken and kept to scry with.”

“Really? Do the druids have one then?”

“No.” Morgana sighs. “They wouldn’t tell me much about them, actually. Next time, hopefully.” She absently fiddled with the necklace she’d gotten from Mordred, looking down at the open pages of the book in front of her.

They’re in Gaius’s chambers again, this time because he’s in the lower town tending to one of the castle seamstresses who’s come down with a fever. As he left he told Merlon he didn’t expect to be back until late that evening and Merlin had taken the opportunity to make use of the out of the way and relatively un-trafficked (at this hour, anyway) nature of the room.

“Should we get started then?” Merlin says after a moment.

Morgana looks up from the book. “Hm? Oh, yes, sorry. I probably wasted half our time talking.”

“It’s fine,” Merlin assures her.

“You should come next time,” Morgana says, flipping through the pages to find the spell they’d left off working with. “I’m sure they could teach you things as well, even if you’re not a seer.”

“Yeah…” Merlin shifts uncomfortably. He hasn’t gone into detail with Morgana about the actual _extent_ of his powers yet, or anything approaching the question of destinies, but he suspects it might come up during several hours of magic practice with the druids. “I’ll think about it,” he say at last. “Shall we?"

The spell is one meant to enchant weapons into fighting on the caster’s behalf. It’s more complicated than anything Merlin’s done with Morgana so far, and not something he’s ever even tried himself. The main problem last session wasn’t in actually accomplishing the spell but with the materials at their disposal, none of which resembled weapons. When they finally got it working, they’d just ended up with a collection of brooms and hairbrushes halfheartedly bumping against each other in the air. This time, though, Merlin’s thought ahead and brought a collection of practice swords from the armoury. They’re the wooden ones Arthur uses for training squires, but Merlin’s hoping they’ll still have a better idea of what to do than the hairbrushes did.

He and Morgana spread the swords out in two lines on the floor— three apiece— and then stand over them, facing each other with the rows between them.

“Ready?” Merlin asks.

Morgana tilts her head to one side, giving him a smirk. “Of course.”

The swords sail into the air, making for each other almost immediately. They don’t pair up neatly, but rather jump from opponent to opponent, blocking and striking in turns. Morgana cheers, egging her side on, and Merlin responds in kind, shouting directions and encouragements to his swords.

“Come on, you can do it!”

“Is that all you can do? I’ve seen better from children playing with sicks!”

“No, not there— Defend!”

The door bangs open and Merlin and Morgana both jump, spinning in unison to face it as the swords clattered to the ground.

“Ah, Morgana.” Arthur seems completely unperturbed by the sight of Merlin and Morgana standing in the middle of Gaius’s chambers surrounded by six of his practice swords. “I thought you might be here. My father requests your presence at dinner this evening.”

Morgana smiles and inclines her head smoothly. “Of course. You can tell him I’ll be there.”

Merlin’s heart is racing and he can hear the blood rushing in his ears, but Morgana looks as composed as ever.

Arthur smiles. “Excellent.”

Merlin swallows. “Hang on,” he says, the words seemingly coming out of their own accord even as his brain screams at him to shut up.

Arthur looks at him expectantly. “Yes?”

“You’re going to ask what we’re doing? Or why Morgana’s in Gaius’s chambers?”

Arthur frowns for a moment, mock considering. “Humm…. No,” he shakes his head, flashing Merlin a smile. “I don’t see why that’s any of my business, really.” He lifts his eyebrows at Merlin with a quick wave and turns to leave, pulling the door shut behind him.

Merlin stares at the door, disbelief mounting. When he’s sure Arthur was gone, he rounds on Morgana. “Alright, tell me that’s not suspicious.”

Morgana’s calmly collecting the swords from the ground. She straightens up with a sigh. “Merlin, there’s nothing suspicious about Arthur being an idiot,” she tells him, setting the swords on the table. “Now, I’ve got to go get ready for dinner with Uther.” She sighs again, more heavily as she swept towards the door. “Wish me luck…”

* * *

Over the next few days, Merlin barely has time to worry about Arthur. There’s a new crop of trainees ready to be knighted, and he’s kept busy with preparations for the ceremony and the ensuing feast. On top of that, the seamstress’s fever has spread to the rest of her family and when he isn’t polishing more armour than he feels should actually be his responsibility and hanging decorations in the great hall, Merlin is kept up late helping Gaius make poultices and brew herbs into tinctures.

He finally gets a bit of a break the afternoon before the ceremony’s taking place when Gwen— in all her infinite magnificence— is able to wheedle them both into jobs setting the tables, a task that sounds important but actually takes all of five minutes with more than one person and allows them to spend most of the half hour they have to do it sitting in two of the nicer chairs talking.

“I think I prefer knighting ceremonies to _proper_ events,” Gwen declares, looking over the hall.

Merlin tilts his head to the side as he turns to look at her. “How do you mean?”

“Just… Well, most of the time you have to worry about how to act around the visiting nobles, or there’s an extra level of solemnity because we’re celebrating something important, you know. But with knighting ceremonies it’s the same people as are always around the castle, there’s just an excuse to celebrate.”

“For the nobles maybe. We’re stuck doing extra work and cleaning up after them.”

“We still have some fun, don’t pretend we don’t. There’s plenty of wine and nicer food to go around even if we have to be working.”

“Alright, yeah,” Merlin smiles. “I guess it is nice to have something to celebrate.”

“Exactly! We need excuses to have a good time.” Gwen sighs, leaning back in her seat. “I remember the first knighting ceremony I went to. It was for Sir Leon. He wasn’t the only one getting knighted, but he was one of them. It was before I started working in the palace by about two years I think?” She frowns. “Yes. That’s right.”

“Why’d you go then?”

“Haven’t I told you? My mother used to serve his family. I would play with him sometimes as children. He’s several years older than I am, of course, but I could usually convince him, at least for a couple years. Elyan came, too— to the knighting, I mean. We didn’t get to watch he actual ceremony, but Mother took the two of us with her to the feast after.” She smiles at the memory.

“Sounds nice. Did anything interesting happen?”

“Oh, I can’t remember, I was 10. I think Elyan nearly choked on a grape? It’s been too long for me to say for sure.”

“D’you think he’ll ever come back to Camelot?”

“Who, Elyan?”

“Yeah, I’d like to meet him, sometime.”

Gwen sighs, looking troubled. “I don’t know. I hope so, but he did even come back when our father died, and I have no way of getting in touch with him…” She looks down, straightening out the knife closest to her. “I didn’t talk about him for months after he left. I thought… I don’t know, we were so close as children and even more after our mother died, and I couldn’t forgive him for leaving for _so long_. After our father died though… I think it helps,” she straightens up a little, “to talk about him. I don’t know when he plans on coming back, but if he does he’ll always have a place.”

“I’m sure he’ll come back Gwen. It’s just a matter of waiting.” Merlin smiles at her. “Who knows,” he adds, “he could even show up tonight!”  
Gwen laughs. “Somehow I doubt that, but thank you Merlin.”

“Aw come on Gwen,” Merlin nudges her with his foot. “Something’s gotta happen to make tonight interesting.”

“Or,” Gwen smiles, nudging him back, “we could just have a perfectly pleasant, uneventful evening.”

* * *

Merlin doesn’t even make it to the feast. It still happens— or a significantly more subdued version of it still happens from what Gwen tells him later— but Merlin’s too busy trying to talk Arthur out of the duel to actually attend. The duel. Morgause. Merlin has no idea what made her come to Camelot like that, or what she could possibly have to tell Arthur about a woman who’s been dead for, for her looks, most of her life. He has no idea why he follows Arthur’s _horse_ into Odin’s territory aside from the fact that he’s never really been able to sit idly by and let Arthur endanger himself.

While they’re waiting for Morgause to prepare the spell Arthur says that his father might be wrong about magic and Merlin’s heart nearly stops. Even with everything that happens next, he clings to that moment, holding it close to his chest like something fragile and precious.  
When they get back, Arthur goes straight to the throne room. By the time Merlin gets there he has his sword to Uther’s throat and looks ready to strike.

“Arthur!” Merlin yells. “Don’t! I know you don't want to do this!”

Arthur doesn’t turn around. “My mother is dead because of him!”

“Killing your father won't bring her back.” Merlin’s never seen Arthur this angry, he has no idea if anything he says will even get through to him. “You've lost one parent. Do you really want to lose another?”

“Listen to him Arthur.” Uther’s voice is low and wary, he’s looking like his son with something approaching fear.

Merlin wants to tell him to shut up, that he’s not doing this for Uther but because he knows Arthur couldn’t live with himself after, but instead he says, “Arthur, please, put the sword down.”

“You heard what my mother said! After everything he has done, do you believe he deserves to live? He executes those who use magic, and yet he has used it himself! You have caused so much suffering and pain! I will put an end to that!”

Merlin hears the faintest sound behind him, someone else coming in maybe, but he ignores it. He thinks about Morgana, the druids, the people he’s seen die since he came to Camelot. The ones he’s killed.

And he thinks about Uther, frozen, staring at Merlin like he’s his last hope.

“Morgause is lying!”

The easy way out is to blame it on magic, to play into what Arthur’s already been fed his whole life. But the past few weeks— the moment in Morgause’s fortress… Merlin’s begun to let himself hope and he can’t bring himself to let that go yet. His eyes find Uther again and Merlin takes a shaky breath. He has to walk a delicate line here if he wants to avoid execution.

“She was showing you an illusion. Everything...everything your mother said to you...those were Morgause's words.”

Arthur wavers, almost imperceptibly. “You don’t know that.”

“You said yourself that your mother died before you even opened your eyes. How can seeing you look up at her have been the happiest moment of her life?” No matter what Morgana says— no matter what Merlin says at times— Arthur’s not an idiot.

His eyes glued to Arthur’s back, Merlin continues more gently, “I know, Arthur. I _know_ you want answers and that you hoped Morgause could give them to you, but—” there are other people to ask, other ways to fix these wrongs… “But you can’t let yourself do this, you can’t let Morgause manipulate you.”

Arthur is still staring at Uther.

“Listen to him,” Uther’s voice is low and barely controlled, “he’s speaking the truth.”

Arthur’s grip slackens, just barely, on the grip of his sword, and Uther takes the chance to shift back ever so slightly.

“I swear on my life,” Uther continues, “I loved your mother. There isn’t a day passes that I don’t wish that she were still alive. I could never have done anything to hurt her.”

Arthur drops his sword and backs away, all the tension and energy draining from him. He looks deflated, his armour seems to pull down on him in a way that Merlin’s never seen. Uther moves forward, but Arthur turns away from him. Merlin watches as Arthur walks from the hall without comment, brushing past Merlin like he’s not even there. Merlin looks from Uther to Gaius— who must have come in at some point. They’re looking at each other with some kind of unspoken communication, and they both glance at Merlin, who ducks his head and goes to follow Arthur.

* * *

He finds Arthur in his room, staring out the window into the courtyard and rubbing his thumb over the ring he wears on his index finger. He doesn’t turn when Merlin enters the room, and Merlin hovers by the door wondering if he should make some noise to announce himself.

Just as he’s about to, Arthur says, “Did you mean what you said back there?” His voice is flat and emotionless.

“Did you mean what you said about your father possibly being wrong about magic?”

Arthur turns his head, glancing at Merlin before turning back to the window. “Yes,” he says, in the same distant and hollow tone. “At the time I did.”

“And what about now?”

Arthur turns to face him properly then, crossing his arms over his chest. “I believe I asked you a question first, Merlin.”

Merlin sighs, averting his eyes from Arthur’s gaze. “Everything I said in the hall… I meant.”

“And what about the parts of it you did not say.”

Merlin looks up at him. “My lord?”

Arthur sighs. “Don’t pretend Merlin, the idiot act only really suits you for so long.” There’s the ghost of a joke in his tone, but for the most part his voice is still listless and deflated.

Merlin forces himself to meet Arthur’s gaze. “I meant it when I said Morgause was lying. I don’t think that was really your mother, I think that Morgause was manipulating you, and I think that it was always her intention to sew discord between you and your father.” Merlin takes a deep breath. Arthur is still looking at him expectantly. “But,” Merlin lets the breath out slowly, “I also spoke to Gaius. And not everything Morgause’s illusion said to you was false. I don’t know all of it, but Uther _did_ use magic to bring you into this world and your mother did die as a result.”

Arthur looks like he’s been hit in the chest with a battering ram. He opens his mouth, then closes it, turning slowly away from Merlin and sinking into the chair behind his desk. Merlin doesn’t move.

“Thank you,” Arthur says at last. “And… Thank you for not letting me do anything rash.”

Merlin nods. “Yeah, of course.”

Arthur looks up at him. “I will stop what he’s been doing. The burnings, the executions, the suffering… I’ll put an end to it as soon as I can.”

Merlin feels something painfully close to real hope rise in his chest. “Really?”

“Of course. My mother wouldn’t have wanted all this in her name, of that I am sure.”

Despite himself, despite the amazing and unbelievable shot he has at letting himself believe something will change soon, Arthur’s words give Merlin pause. He opens his mouth, then thinks better of it. He nods again, biting his tongue.

Arthur notices his hesitation. “What?”

“Nothing. Is there anything else I can do for you sire?”

“Out with it, Merlin. I thought you of all people would be happy.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Arthur sighs, “Nothing, Merlin, as usual. Stop avoiding the question.”

Merlin hesitates. “I… _really_ don’t think this is the sort of thing I can say, sire.”

Arthur looks at him for a long time. “Well. In that case, you’re dismissed.”

Merlin turns to go.

“However,” Arthur adds, “I would like to say that— were I not in a position where I am beholden to my father’s laws— I would be encouraging anyone I trusted to speak their mind when it comes to matters on which I am ignorant.”

“Well, if that were the case I’d say that if you’re able to see that there’s suffering, then that should be enough to stop it, it shouldn’t just be because of your mother.” He gives Arthur a small smile. “But, since it’s not the case I’ll just say that I’ll see you in the morning.”  
Arthur lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Goodnight, Merlin.”

Merlin doesn’t mention this conversation to Morgana. He doesn’t mention it to Gaius either, though every part of him wants to shout it from the rooftops. He doesn’t want to risk it, to get his hopes up and think that maybe Arthur could change his mind…. It’s better to keep it to himself. To keep it tucked away, something he can take out later and turn over, in the few quiet hours he gets to himself when he dares himself to consider the possibility of being free.

* * *

He notices the bracelet at his next magic session with Morgana. It’s a broad metal band covered in an intricate design and he’s sure he’s never seen it anywhere before.

“What’s that?” he asks as they clear up the unused sitting room they’re using this week.

Morgana glances down at the bracelet, touching it with her other hand. “Oh…You remember Morgause?”

“Yes…” Merlin says, immediately wary.

“She gave it to me before she left. I don’t know what about me made he want to part with it, but I couldn’t be more glad she did.” Morgana smiles, running her thumb long the patterns in the metal. “It’s a healing bracelet,” she explains, “I haven’t needed the druid’s potion since I’ve started wearing it.”

“Really?” Merlin looks at the designs more carefully, but he can’t glean anything from them. “Have you spoken with Gaius about it?” he asks, keeping his tone carefully light. “Or the druids?”

Morgana frowns at him. “I spoke to Gaius briefly, but mostly because I wanted to see if he knew anything else about Morgause. I don’t see why I should speak to the druids, though. Obviously I’ll see them again, I was hoping to go in a few days actually, but… There’s no reason to seek them out just for this.”

“Yeah,” Merlin nodded, “yeah, you’re probably right.” he looked down at the cloth he was using to wipe chalk off the table (the transmutation spell they’d been working on had needed a sigil). “Just— Well, we don’t know Morgause’s intentions, do we? I mean, she certainly wanted to manipulate Arthur.”

“I don’t think she would have given me a healing bracelet if she meant me harm,” Morgana’s voices rises with disbelief. “Surely there are better ways.”

“I’m not saying she was! I don’t know what she was trying to do, and maybe she did genuinely want to help you. All I’m saying is that we can’t be sure what her intentions were so we should probably be careful.”

Morgana looks at him, brow creased and her eyes slightly narrowed. Merlin expects her to push back more, but instead she just sighs.

“Well, I’ll ask the druids about it when I see them next, just to be sure. But I’m wearing it until then.”

“Of course, anything that helps with your dreams.”

Merlin busies himself with collecting the last of their supplies, gathering them in one of Gaius’s old medicine bags that he appropriated for the purpose.

“Speaking of things your worried about…” Morgana says, brushing off her and hands and leaning back against the table. “Any more evidence for Arthur’s supposed insight into what we’ve been up to.”

Merlin glances up at her and laughs awkwardly. “Uh, no,” he says looking back down. He thinks about their conversation about Ygraine and magic and adds, “I think you were probably right about that, after all. If Arthur wanted to let me know that he knew he’d be a lot more straightforward about it.”

“Hm,” Morgana pushes herself off the table and follows Merlin as he starts towards the door. “Well, I told you there wasn’t anything to worry about, didn’t I?”

“You also think that he assumed he thought we were courting and there hasn’t been much proof of that either,” Merlin points out.  
Morgana laughs, holding the door open for Merlin, then stepping through herself and shutting it behind them. “Merlin, he saw you bringing me flowers and he knows we’ve been meeting, I’d be surprised if he doesn’t give us both a threatening talk about our intentions soon.”

“He wouldn’t really do that would he?”

“Merlin…” Morgana says, like he’s being naïve and this is a very standard situation that anyone should expect to encounter.

“Come on,” Merlin says, snorting, “it’s _Arthur_ , he wouldn’t.”

“Arthur wouldn’t what?”

Gwen has just rounded the corner, carrying a large basket of sheets. Merlin looks to Morgana, mouth open.

“Er…”

Gwen looks at them, still smiling. “What?” She glances between them and leans back a bit with a knowing look. “Is this about your secret meetings?”

“What? No.” Merlin laughs, hearing his voice rise, “Why would you— We’re not…”

“You’ve been having them for several weeks and you’ve just clearly finished with one,” Gwen points out, shifting the basket’s weight to one arm. “I’m not going to tell on you!” she adds. “But you don’t have to pretend that’s not what’s happening.”

Merlin’s mouth is still hanging open as to tries to figure out how to formulate a response to that.

“We’ve nothing to hide,” Morgana sweeps in to save him, smiling, “Merlin and I have just started a book club, that’s all. Unfortunately, Arthur seems convinced it’s a cover for something much more scandalous.”

Gwen looks confused for a second. “Oh!” Her eyes go wide. “But why— I mean, you’re both…”

Morgana sighs. “Trust me Gwen, I _know_. But that’s Arthur for you.”

“So what are you reading, then?” Gwen asked, looking to Merlin.

“Oh, uh, a book,” Merlin says, “that… we got… from Gaius. Or, the recommendation was from Gaius, we got the book from Geoffrey.”  
Gwen nods, smiling at the babble coming out of Merlin’s mouth. “I see.” She looks down at her basket. “Well, I’ll let you get back to it then. I’ll see you in the morning, Morgana?”

“Of course,” Morgana smiles. “Have a good night, Gwen.”

Gwen nods again and continues past them down the hall.

“Night!” Merlin calls out, delayed over his shoulder, and Gwen turns around a little and gives him a half-wave.

Morgana turns to Merlin. “Well, I’m off to bed, Merlin. Try not to worry too much, alright? Gwen doesn’t suspect anything, why should anyone else. Although we many need to pick a specific book next time she asks.”

* * *

Morgana goes to visit the druids again the same day that Arthur planned to take Merlin on a hunt. Merlin sees Morgana readying her horse as he and Arthur ride out of the courtyard, their horses laden with enough supplies for an overnight trip. He nods at her as they pass, and she gives him a broad smile.

Normally Merlin’s at best indifferent to hunting, but this time he’s glad for the distraction, honestly. Glad to get out of the castle and stop worrying when being seen with Morgana will land him in trouble, or when someone will put the pieces together and figure out what’s really going on. It’s nice to ride quietly behind Arthur, to watch him shoot at wild fowl and rabbits and make the fire when he’s done. It feels refreshingly normal.

Arthur doesn’t comment on his silence for once. He’s been quiet himself since Morgause’s visit and everything that came after. Not in a way that most people would notice, he still runs drills with the knights and bellows orders at the trainees the same as always, still gives reports on patrols and weighs in at council meetings… But there’s a different quality to him now, mostly around Uther. He’s always been careful with how he says things around his father, even if he wouldn’t have admitted it, but now there’s something more. Merlin couldn’t figure out what it was at first, but now he’s fairly sure that something in Arthur has given up on Uther. He’s still treating him as his king, but not as his father.

Merlin pokes at the fire with a stick and glances up Arthur over it. He’s staring into the flames, his face blank aside from a slight crease on his forehead.

“We should probably think about getting to be soon,” Merlin says.

Arthur doesn’t look up from the flames. “You go ahead Merlin, I think I’ll stay here for a little while longer.”

“Are you sure? I can stay, if you want.”

“And why would I want that?” Arthur asks, finally looking up at Merlin.

Merlin shrugs. “For company. Or conversation, if you want to talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about, Merlin.” Arthur sounds tired, wooden. Like whatever mask he’s been putting on has fallen, or maybe he’s just taken it off.

“Well we don’t have to talk about anything important. We could talk about the hunt, or… the stew. Or nothing. Like I said, I’m fine just staying here for company.”

Arthur looks up at him, really looking at him in a way that he rarely does. “I’ve been giving a lot of thought to what you said, Merlin. About… my mother, and… Well, I’ve been giving a lot of things you said some thought.”

“You have?”

“Don’t look so surprised, you do say insightful things on occasion.”

“Well it’s less that than it is the notion of you thinking.”

A grin barely cracks Arthur’s face. The next second it’s gone and Merlin’s not even sure he didn’t imagine it.

“I don’t know what to do,” Arthur says after a long moment of silence. “I’ve spent so much of my life trying o live up to what my father want for me, and I’ve grateful for so much of what he’s taught me, but…” He absently plays with a stick he’s holding, rolling it slowly between his fingers. “I don’t know what to do with the thought that he’s wrong about so much.”

“Well… you’ve always known you would do some things differently, didn’t you? When you’re king. You’ve said as much to me.”

“Maybe. But…” Arthur leaned back, gesturing with the stick. “There’s a difference between disagreeing with how he approaches problems that I also see and… _fundamentally_ taking issue with the very idea that sorc— that something he sees as a threat to the threat to the kingdom is even that. And it’s not just my mother, even before that…” he looks down. “Well, you know.”

“Do you—” A knot starts to form in Merlin’s throat and he swallows. “Do you really mean that?”

Arthur glances at him. He seems genuinely surprised at Merlin’s question. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.”

He held Merlin’s gaze over the fire. The flames crackled between them in the otherwise silent forest. Arthur stood up suddenly.

“Right. We should probably get some sleep. Put the fire out, will you?”

* * *

“Merlin!”

He’s barely been back at Camelot a day when Gwen catches his elbow as he’s walking back from unpacking Arthur’s things and pulls him into an alcove.

“As soon as you’ve got a free moment, come to Morgana’s chambers? We have a… situation.”

“Wait, Gwen, what’s—” But she was already hurrying off down the hallway.

Merlin has no idea what to make of it, but he quickly drops his bag off in his room then run-walks through the halls to Morgana’s room. He knocks on the door and waits, catching his breath.

“Who is it?” He cant tell if it’s Gwen or Morgana through the door.

“Merlin,” he answer. “Er, Gwen said I should come?”

The door swings inward and Morgana waves him inside with an exasperated look. “Really Gwen?” She says as Merlin follows her into the room. “There’s no need to worry Merlin over this.“

Gwen sighs. “I thought he should know. And I thought you might listen if there are two of us telling you to maybe be a _bit_ more careful?”

Morgana makes a deriesive nose in her throat. “It’s not as though there are guards after him this time, no one even knows he’s here.”

“Wait, who’s here?” Merlin says, looking between the two of them.

Morgana turns her head over her shoulder, “Mordred? You can come out now.”

Merlin does a double take as Mordred, dressed in travelling clothes, steps out from behind one of Morgana’s curtains.

“Hello Merlin,” he says, smiling.

“What are you doing here?” Merlin faintly registers that this is the first time Mordred’s called him anything other than Emrys.

“He followed me back from the druid camp last night.” Morgana moves around to stand next to Mordred, putting her hand one his shoulder. “I thought it was best to let him stay the night, he can go back this evening once it gets dark.”

“How did he even get in?” Merlin asks incredulous.

“Wait, the druids?” Gwen frowns at Morgana. “I thought you were at your father’s grave?”

Morgana and Merlin look at each other, panicked. Morgana’s eyes are wide and the hand on Mordred’s shoulder tightens just a little. Merlin swallows. His mouth is dry. He opens it but he’s not sure what to say.

“Morgana?” Gwen looks from one to the other of them “What is it? Why were you with the druids? Did— Did you go _looking_ for Mordred?”

“Gwen,” Merlin’s voice sounds rough when it comes out. He doesn’t break his stare with Morgana, trying to silently confirm he’s doing the right thing. “Can we trust you with something?”

“Of course, anything, you know that.”

Merlin swallows again. “No, Gwen, I mean _really_ trust you.” He lets his gaze slip towards her, just barely towards where she’s standing. “This— This is the kind of thing that you won’t be able to tell _anyone_ , and… and if anyone finds out you know you’d be in just as much danger as us.”

“Of course, Merlin, I’d never say anything to put either of you in danger.”

Merlin looks back at Morgana. She nods— just barely. Merlin’s not entirely sure it was even meant as a nod until she takes a deep breath and nods again.

“Yes,” she says, her voice shaky. “I say we tell her.”

Gwen’s looking at them, her brow furrowed and her mouth half open. Her arms are crossed and a few of her curls are coming loose from how she’s tied them back. She looks so like herself that Merlin realizes that he can’t speak, can’t open his mouth and say the words that will mean he never gets to see her look at her with anything other than disgust or fear or hatred.

“We have magic.” Morgana’s standing with her shoulders squared and her chin held high. “Merlin and I. He’s been teaching me and the druids have been helping me with my nightmares.”

Gwen looks stunned. “Oh.” She says, blinking. “I… How long?”

“Which part?” Morgana asked.

“Ah, all of it, I guess?” Gwen looks like she’s still digesting the information. “How long has Merlin been teaching you, how many times have you been to the druids…”

“Just twice,” Morgana says.

“Three times,” Mordred corrects her quietly.

“Right, three. The two most recent times I said I was visiting my father’s grave, and then also when Uther thought I was kidnapped.”

“I… think I need to sit down,” Gwen says slowly, turning and pulling out the chair from Morgana’s vanity. “What about you? How long…” she asks, looking at Merlin.

“I was born with it,” Merlin says, finally finding his voice. “I’ve had magic for as long as I can remember, I can’t imagine not having it.”

Gwen nods, still looking overwhelmed. “Perhaps you should explain everything form the beginning.”

They do their best, starting with the fire in Morgana’s chambers and going through everything with the druids and their lessons. Mordred gets bored partway through and wanders over to the window. Here and there Merlin adds in a few things about what he’s done with his magic since coming to Camelot. Most of it is stuff he hasn’t told Morgana yet— she’s had surprisingly few questions about his magic beyond what spells he knows and how to do them, something he’s been quietly glad for since it means he can keep being vague about just how much power he has. Merlin doesn’t share anything big now. He mentions that Gaius knows, and the part his magic played in saving Arthur’s life when he first arrived in Camelot, and other than that he stays quiet.

Gwen says quiet too, not asking questions, just listening to the explanation, her eyes downcast, one hand covering her chin and mouth. When they’re done, she takes a deep breath and looks up at them, expression unreadable. Then, suddenly, she surges to her feet, wrapping her arms around both of them at once and pulling them into her. Merlin brings his free arm up instinctively to return the gesture. He feels Morgana stiffen next to him in surprise, then slowly bring her arm up to embrace Gwen too.

“Thank you for trusting me,” Gwen says over Merlin’s shoulder. She pulls back. “You didn’t have to, but I’m glad that you did. And I _promise_ , I will do everything to be worthy of that trust. I won’t tell a soul.”

Tears prick at Merlin’s eyes as a face-splitting grin spreads over his face. “Thank you, Gwen. Really. I— I can’t tell you how much that means to me.”

Morgana nods. “Yes, thank you, Gwen. I’m sorry we had to keep it hidden from you.”

“No, don’t be!” Gwen’s eyebrows shoot up. “Of course you’d want to keep this quiet, if the wrong person found out…” She trails off, biting her lip. She looks at Merlin “I do have one question, though.”

“What is it?”

“Your friend. In Ealdor.”

Morgana inhales, realizing where she’s going. “Ohhh, of course. The sorcerer. The one who save Arthur’s life. What was his name again?”

“Will.” Merlin hears Gwen’s voice at the same time as his, like a strange echo.

He takes a deep breath. “What about him?”

“Well, he was a sorcerer too, wasn’t he? Or was that just… Well, I was just wondering if he might have been covering up for you.”

“No, uh…” Merlin looks down. “No. Will never had magic. He just…” He sees Will’s face as he lay on the ground, hears his final words. “He was protecting me. So that I could keep serving Arthur.”

Gwen’s hand on his arm is warm and comforting. “I’m sorry. I know I didn’t know him long, but he seemed like a good friend.”

“He was.” Merlin puts his hand on Gwen’s and gives it a quick squeeze. With a deep breath he looks up at Arthur. “You still need to tell us why Mordred’s here though.”

“I told you, he followed me back from the druid camp. I didn’t see him do it, he found me in the stables while I was returning my horse so I brought him up to my rooms.”

Mordred, realizing they’re speaking about him, leaves the window and comes over to them. “I have something to tell you and Morgana,” he tells Merlin, taking Morgana’s hand. “And I wanted to spend more time with her. She’s so busy with the elders when she visits, I don’t get to see her.”

“Oh, Mordred.” Morgana kneels down next to him. “I can come earlier in the day if that would help? Or I could see if I can get out of the castle for a longer trip sometime. It’ll be easier now that I can talk to Gwen about it. Would you like that?”

Mordred nods, beaming.

“What was it you wanted to tell us?” Merlin asks him.

“Oh, right.” Mordred looks at Gwen, then back to Merlin. _I meant it to be just the two of you._

“Anything you want to tell us you can tell her as well.”

“Absolutely,” Morgana assures Mordred. “Gwen’s helped you before, remember? Besides, I’m not about to start lying to her after having just told her the everything.”

Mordred looks directly at Merlin. _But you haven’t told them everything, Emrys._

A chill runs down Merlin’s spine. “I trust Gwen,” he says firmly, folding his arms. “So unless you’ve got a good reason to keep stalling just tell us what you’ve got to say.”

“ _Merlin_ ,” Morgana chastises him. “He’s a child.”

Mordred doesn’t seem bothered by either Merlin’s tone or Morgana’s defence of him. Instead, he walked over to a chest by the wall and pushed himself on top of it, kicking his legs so that his heels bounced against the front. “A man came to the druid camp a few night ago, he wanted to talk with some of the grown ups and I don’t think he realized I was there but I heard what he said. He wanted to know if they’d help him break into Camelot.”

“What?” Merlin takes a step forward. “Why?”

“There’s a crystal.” Mordred stops kicking and leans forward. “In the vaults. Alvarr— the man— said that it’s from the Crystal Cave.”  
Merlin hears Morgana inhale sharply beside him and she moves a few steps closer.

“They didn’t want to help him,” Mordred continues. “I don’t know if he’ll try without them, but I thought I should warn you in case he does. Also, maybe Morgana could go get it and use it for scrying.”

“That’s amazing,” Morgana breathes.

Merlin glances over at her to see that her eyes are wide and she’s regarding Mordred with rapt attention.

“But wait,” Gwen stands up slowly, “if this is in the vaults there’s probably a good reason, it could be dangerous or be something that belongs to the royal family.”

Morgana laughs. “Most of what’s in the vaults does’t belong to Uther any more than your purse belongs to a pickpocket. It’s mostly things he took during the Great Purge and perceived to have some value.”

“Gwen does raise a good point though,” Merlin says slowly, looking at Mordred. “If someone wants it badly enough to break into Camelot it’s definitely got some power, and if the druids don’t want to help than I’m not sure it’s the kind of power we want to get involved with.”  
Mordred shrugs. “I don’t know why Alvarr wanted it, he didn’t say. But the druids don’t like to do anything that might get us in trouble with Camelot. The king’s been trying to wipe us out for years, he doesn’t need another reason.”

The casual way he says the last part makes Merlin shudder. “What are these Crystal Caves?” He asks, to change the subject. “What’s so special about them?”

“They’re a place of great magic,” Morgana answers. “The druids mentioned them the first time I went to see them. The crystals are powerful scrying tools, but not everyone can use them, and even if you can they’re a double-edged sword. Apparently a lot of people see things that they’d be better off not knowing.”

Her eyes are still wide and her voice is eager. She leans in as she explains this in hushed awe and Merlin can’t help but feel that despite the content of what she’s saying Morgana would do anything to have a chance to use one of those crystals.

“My friend Kara says that she walked by it once, but I think she’s lying,” Mordred tells them. “She grew up with our grove and I didn’t, but I still know that they didn’t go to the Valley of the Fallen Kings before I got there, and we haven’t since I joined so I don’t know when she would have gone.”

“The Valley of the Fallen Kings?” Morgana asks him turning to face him again. “Is that where it is?”  
Merlin makes eye contact with Gwen. From her face, she seems to be having the same misgivings about Morgana’s enthusiasm as he is. Holding her eyes, he clears his throat. “Er. Well, thanks for telling us about this, Mordred, it’s great information to have, really helpful, thanks again. Do you mind if I just talk to Morgana for a second?”

Mordred shrugs, noncommittally. Morgana gives Merlin a confused look, but doesn’t protest as Merlin leads her and Gwen into the hallway outside of Morgana’s rooms. As soon as he’s checked that the coast is clear, Merlin rounds on Morgana.

“We are not breaking into the vaults.”

“What?” Morgana says on a burst of surprised half-laughter. “Why would you even suggest that.”

“Because Mordred came here to specifically tell you about something valuable in the vaults? Something that you seem _way_ too interested in getting at despite the fact that it’s apparently got incredibly volatile magic and is being held in one of the more closely guarded parts of the kingdom?”

“Merlin’s right,” Gwen agrees. “The important part of what Mordred had to say was the fact that someone might be trying to break into the citadel. I don’t think he realized that, but it is, and both of you seem more interested in the crystal itself.”

“Aren’t you?” She directs it more at Merlin than at Gwen. “Something that powerful— something that important, it shouldn’t be in Uther’s hands. It belongs with people who will actually appreciate it.”

“And who’s that? The druids? Or _you_."

Morgana lowers her chin, glowering at him. He’s clearly struck a nerve, but Merlin holds firm, matching her gaze with a glare of his own.

“The Old Religion—” Morgana starts.

“And what would you know about that? You’ve spoken with the druids, what, twice? And now you’re suddenly an expert?”

“And what would _you_ know about it,” Morgana hisses, leaning in. “You haven’t even been _once_ —”

“Enough!” Gwen exclaims, holding her hands up between them. “Stop it. Both of you. The druids aren’t interested in helping with whatever Alvarr’s plan is, and it’s far too dangerous for us to try to get into the vaults on our own. Either we tell Arthur that there’s a risk that someone will try to steal something from the vaults or we come up with a new plan.” She gives them both a stern look. Merlin gulps. “Alright?”

Merlin nods jerkily and Morgana looks away, muttering her assent. Gwen crosses her arms and takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

“Good.” She uncrosses her arms and lets them drop by her sides. “Now, what do we need to do?”

“Well,” Merlin starts cautiously, looking at Morgana as he does. She’s still looking at the ground, her arms folded protectively over her chest. Merlin takes a deep breath and continues, “We don’t even know if Alvarr will still try without the druids’ help. I think the first think to do is work out what he’s up to, get more information.”

“And?” Gwen prompts. “How do we do that?”

“Well—” Merlin licks his lips. He catches Morgana’s eyes, almost smiling. “I do have one idea.”

Morgana uncrosses her arms slowly and looks up at him, frowning. “What?”

“Scrying.”

Morgana inhales, leaning back barely. “I haven’t tried yet, the druids say I should focus on controlling my dreams first.”

“You can still do it though,” Merlin takes a half step forward, newly enthused, his annoyance all but forgotten. “You’re a seer, and you said they’ve talked to you about different methods.”

A smile spreads it way across Morgana’s face, tugging at one corner before taking hold of the rest of her mouth. “Alright. Yes, let’s try.” She takes a deep breath and straightens up. “We’ll need to get supplies together— a mirror, and a basin of water.”

Gwen nods. “Good, we can get those no problem.”

“And it wouldn’t hurt to have some herbs that help with focusing things. And some kind of crystal— just a normal kind I mean, if Gaius has it.” Morgana looks at Merlin. “If I give you a list could you get everything together?”

“Yeah, just tell me what you need.”

Morgana smiles again and takes a deep breath in. She’s more energized, lit up in a way Merlin recognizes instantly because it looks exactly like how he feels when he gets the chance to really use in his magic. Morgana may have some skill at spells, but it’s not innate in the same way it is to Merlin, not like this is. She’s in her element here in a way she’s never been with spell craft. Merlin smiles in spite of himself.

“When are we doing this?” he asks.

“Tomorrow,” Morgana says. “I’ll make sure Mordred gets out of the castle safely tonight, you two work on getting what we need. We’ll meet in the empty guest room in the third floor western corridor.”

“Alright.” Gwen nods, a look of determination on her face. Merlin feels a swell of appreciation for her and how quickly she’s taken all of this in stride. He gives her a warm smile, then looks to Morgana.

“It’s a plan.”

* * *

The list Morgana gives him is mostly easy enough to acquire. Gaius’s store of herbs is well stocked enough to accommodate Merlin taking portions of all the ones he needs, and the two that he doesn’t have both grow close enough to the castle that it won’t take him more than half an hour to collect them and get back to the castle. He asks Gaius about crystals as casually as he can. Which is to say that he spends about ten minutes coming up with a good story for how he was looking for a scroll for Arthur in the library and happened to come across another that mentioned different rock formations and did Gaius have any crystals he could look at? Only for Gaius to cut off his rambling recitation of it about ten seconds in and ask what he was after. Gaius just sighs when Merlin tells him, and disappears up into the balcony for a few minutes, coming back with a soft cloth bag that clinks slightly as he hands it over.

“That’s got a couple different sorts. Amethyst, quartz, selenite… There might be some agate left, but it’s been a while since I checked. I used to use them for making totems, but there’s nothing innately magical about them. Now,” he raises one eyebrow at Merlin, folding his hands in front of him, “are you going to tell me what you want them for?”

“Oh, uh, you know…” Merlin glances up from the bag with a shrug. “I’ll get these back to you as soon as I’m done with them, alright?”  
Gaius’s eyebrow lifts a little higher, but he does’t say anything. Instead he sighs, turning towards his work bench. “Just be careful, will you?”

“Of course,” Merlin assures him, tucking the bag into his pocket and heading towards the door. “I’ve got to go run an errand for Arthur, alright? I’ll see you later.”

* * *

The lower town is busy in the same way it always in the late afternoons, and Merlin in able to slip through the crowds without anyone taking notice of him. The crowds thins out as he gets closer the gates, but Merlin doesn’t bother distracting the guards. He goes out for herbs often enough and he’ll be back soon enough with clear evidence of what he’s been doing that he’s not worried about what they’ll think. He finds patches of the last two herbs on Morgana’s list quickly enough, and grabs a couple handfuls of each before turning around to trek back across the open field between the castle and the woods.

The sun is shining from behind Camelot towards him as he walks, and Merlin squints a bit as he looks at the way in front of him. It’s a gorgeous day. It’s gorgeous in a way that feels at odds with everything that’s been swirling in Merlin’s head the past couple weeks, and especially everything in the past few days. It feels like a glorious late summer afternoon that could stretch on for ages without anything pressing or urgent to do. The kind of day he’d spend with Will, down by the river that flowed by Ealdor, or that he and Gwen would take advantage of, skive off their duties and go for a walk in the woods. Or even a day when he’d watch Arthur training, clapping when he does well and joking with him when he comes for a new weapon or needs his armour adjusted. It doesn’t feel like a day when anything terrible would happen, but then again neither did the day he arrived in Camelot.

Merlin drops his eyes to avoid the sun’s glare. Instead, he watches his boots flattening the bright grass as he walks. The grass gives way to the dirt road, which in turn gives way to cobblestone when he reaches the gates The bright warmth of the sun on his hair and shoulders is replaced by intermittent cool shadows from the buildings of Camelot. Merlin keeps his head down anyway, in thought more than anything else, and counts on the crowds to part for him.

Rounding the last corner before the courtyard, he nearly crashes into Arthur.

“Merlin.” Arthur seems amused rather than put out. “There you are.”

“Arthur. What are you doing here?”

“Well, you disappeared as soon as we got back to Camelot and no one’s seen Morgana since last night, I thought it might be a good idea to find where exactly you’d both disappeared to.”

“Morgana’s in her room.” Merlin realizes what he’s said and adds quickly, “I mean, that’s where I’d look, if I were you. And that’s where Gwen said she was when I talked to her earlier, so there’s no reason to think she’d be with me.”

“Yes, I found that out quite easily by knocking on her door,” Arthur tells him. “But strangely enough no one could tell me where my manservant had gone off to aside that he’d been seen heading toward the lower time.” He cocks his head to one side, leaving the question implied.

“I was collecting herbs for Gaius. See?” Merlin lifts up his hand. “Herbs.”

Arthur nods. “I see that.”

There’s a beat of silence. Merlin shifts his weight awkwardly, unsure of what Arthur wants.

“Did you need something, sire?”

“There have been rumours…” Arthur says slowly. “About a druid in the lower town. You haven’t heard anything about that have you?”

“No,” Merlin answers, his blood going cold. “Why?”

“No reason.” Arthur turns back towards the palace. “Come on, I need your help getting ready for dinner.”

Merlin could swear his heartbeat is loud enough for Arthur to hear as he follows him back into the palace. With the excuse of dropping the herbs off for Gaius, he stops off in his own chambers and takes several long slowly breaths, steadying himself before going to Arthur’s rooms. By the time he’s finished dressing him and they get to the dining hall, a good part of Merlin’s fear has been supplanted by annoyance at Morgana. She’s not at dinner, and Merlin can only hope she and Gwen are using this chance to get Mordred safely out of the city, but really, what was she thinking letting him stay this long to begin with. Arthur notices Merlin’s mood, or seems to at least, even if he doesn’t say anything. He just gives Merlin a questioning look as he refills his goblet.

“You wouldn’t know why Morgana’s been in her room all day, would you?” he asks Merlin once they’re back in Arthur’s chambers. “Gwen was a little scarce on details.”

“What?” Merlin looks up from the wardrobe. “Oh. It’s, uh, it’s fine.” He takes out Arthur’s night shirt and closes the wardrobe door. “Nothing to be worried about.”

“Right…” Arthur folds the doublet he was wearing over the back of a chair and looks at Merlin. “You’d tell if it were, wouldn’t you? Not—” he pauses, “I wouldn’t need the _details_ , just… if there was anything that I should know about, so I could do something…”

“Yeah of course,” Merlin assures him. “It’s fine really, I think she just think she needed a day for herself.”

He can’t remember when it became second nature for the first thing out of his mouth to be a lie, but it come out easily now. So smoothly that it might as well be second nature.

“Good.” Arthur takes the night shirt from Merlin and disappears behind his screen.

Merlin drifts over to Arthur’s desk, straightening up a bit. He glances out the window and does a double take. Two figures are moving across the middle of the courtyard, wearing long cloaks and pushing a wheelbarrow with a large barrel on it. Merlin moves around the desk, coming closer and craning his head for a better view. The figure on the right’s hood is down and in the bright moonlight it’s clearly Morgana. Going by height and build, the second figure could very easily be Gwen. Merlin groans in exasperation.

“What was that?” Arthur asks from behind the screen.

“What was what?” Merlin calls back. Gwen and Morgana are now struggling to lift the barrel onto a large cart loaded with them.

Arthur comes out from behind the screen, the shirt he was wearing balled up in hand. “You made a noise, I don’t know.”

A man emerges from the palace, walking towards the cart. Gwen notices him and says something to Morgana. They move hurriedly, shoving the barrel up onto the cart.

“What is it?” Arthur walks toward Merlin.

“Nothing.” Merlin spins around, blocking as much of the window as he can with his body.

Arthur rolls his eyes and pushed past him. After looking out he sighs. “You really know how to make everything seem suspicious don’t you.”

Merlin looks back out the window. Morgana and Gwen are nowhere in sight. The man has mounted the cart, and it’s slowly trundling towards the gate.

“It’s just some supplies for the outlying villages to the south,” Arthur says, shoving the shirt into Merlin’s hands and walking towards his bed. “Get some sleep.”

* * *

“Alright,” Merlin lets out a heavy sigh as he lets the door shut behind him, collapsing against it once it has. “Are we ready to get started?”

Gwen looks up front the table where she and Morgana have laid out two bowls— one of water and one of wine, next to two empty pitchers— and a midsized oval mirror. “Are you alright?”

Merlin shrugs. He unslings Gaius’s old physician’s bag and drops it onto the table. “Just tired, I didn’t sleep very well.” He ommits the fact that he was kept up by concerns about what might happen if it turned out Alvarr _was_ still trying to get into the vaults— he doesn’t need to start that conversation with Morgana again. Opening the bag, Merlin starts tossing bundles of herbs onto the table. “And I thought I heard someone following me on my way here, so I took a detour up two extra floors… Don’t worry!” he adds as Morgans looks up sharply. “I didn’t see anyone and I didn’t hear anything else after, I think I’m just nervous.”

“Are you sure?” Morgana leans towards him. “If someone catches us—"

“I’m sure.” Merlin takes out Gaius’s crystals, setting them each deliberately not he table so they’re lined up in a neat row and doesn’t mention what a poor job she and Gwen did being cautious the night before.

“Good.” Morgana visibly relaxes and Merlin tries to remind himself that she’s probably just as scared as he is of being caught, even if her perspective on living with that fear is warped by the privileges granted to a king’s ward.

Gwen looks over the table, then up and Morgana and Merlin. “Should we start then?”

“Yes.” Morgana nods, he eyes scanning the items before her. “I think I’ll try the water first. That’s supposed to be the easiest.” She lowers herself into a chair and pulls the bowl towards her. “Gwen— could you pull the curtains closed if you don’t mind?”

Gwen starts to move to do that, when there’s a faint knock at the door. They all freeze, staring at it. It starts to creak inward and Gwen reacts immediately, grabbing one of the pitchers from the table as surging forward. She swings it, hard, and in the second before it connects with the person coming through the door Merlin realizes that it’s Arthur. The pitcher strikes him squarely across the top of his head and he crumples forward onto the the floor. Gwen drops the pitcher in shock, her hands flying to her mouth.

“Gwen!” Merlin stares at her, at a loss for words. “Wh— I— I mean, what was that?”

“I’m sorry!” Gwen says, hands still covering her mouth while she stares at Arthur on the floor. “I panicked, I didn’t even realize it was Arthur, I just wanted to stop whoever it was from realizing what you were doing, and I…” She looks up at Merlin, moving her clasped hands to just under her chin. “Do you think he’ll be alright?”

“He’ll be fine, Gwen,” Morgana assures her.

“I don’t know, I think I hit him too hard….” She looks back down at Arthur’s sprawled form. in a whisper she asks. “What are we going to do?”

“We could wipe his memory?” Merlin suggests.

Morgana’s eyes light up. “Is there actually a spell that can do that?”

“We’re not wiping Arthur’s memory!” Gwen’s voice is high, almost shrill.

Merlin holds up his hands defensively. “I wasn’t serious!”

Morgana sniffs. “Pity.”

On the floor, Arthur makes a groaning sound. They all jump, their heads whipping in his direction.

“Alright, let’s just… stay calm,” Merlin says, deeply aware of how un-calm his own voice sounds. “Morgana, you clear up the mirror and the amethyst and all of that, Gwen—”

Merlin’s cut off by another groan from Arthur. He stirs, then sits up laboriously, rubbing his head where Gwen hit him.

His eyes find Merlin first. “What on _Earth_ made you do that?”

“It wasn’t me!” Merlin says automatically.

“I don’t care who it was,” Arthur rolls his eyes as he pushes himself to his feet, anger mounting in his voice. “I just want to know why it happened!”

“Look, Arthur, if you don’t want to be knocked out you should’t go around opening random doors.”

“I’m the _prince_ ,” Arthur says, staring at Merlin like he’s lost his mind, “I’m perfectly within my rights to go wherever I want. And besides, I was actually trying to _help_ you.”

Merlin freezes. “Help us with what?”

“With… this,” Arthur waves his hand vaguely towards where Morgana is standing in front of the worst of the scrying supplies. “With whatever magic nonsense that’s got you running around half of last nigh midnight and the guards telling me there are rumours of a druid in the city.”

Merlin’s brain stops. He’s fairly certain he’s staring at Arthur for approximately a thousand years before he finally manages to splutter out. “Magic? I— No, why— It’s, I mean, we’re— Why would you think that it’s magic?”

Arthur rolls his eyes in exasperation. “Because, _Merlin_ , why else would my secretly magic servant and the king’s secretly magic ward be whispering in hallways and holding poorly-concealed clandestine meetings?”

“You _knew_?”

“Yes you clotpole, _of course I knew_.”

“That’s _my_ word!”

"I can’t believe that’s what you’re choosing to focus on right now!”

They’re shouting at each other by now, Gwen and Morgana’s eyes bouncing between them like spectators at a tournament.

“Maybe—” Gwen starts, but Morgana shushes her, putting a hand on her arm.

“No, don’t, I want to see where this goes.”

“How— I mean—” Merlin splutters. “ _You knew_?” he ends up repeating indignantly.

“Yes, I did, I thought I’d made that perfectly clear ages ago, but apparently you’re a lot denser than I gave you credit for!”

“Made it—” Merlin fully turns around and walks away from Arthur before spinning back to face him and coming closer. “I knew it. I knew you’d figured something out. I told Gaius and Morgana and Gwen and none of them believed me. How long have you known? Since Cornelius Sigan? Hm? Since Ealdor? Or— Oh, gods… Have you known since I got here? Was it stopping Lady Helen? Or the Afanc?”

“What— ” Arthur starts. “How often do you use magic in front of me? Wait,” he waves it off. “That’s not important. I figured it out shortly before I asked you to help Morgana. I saw you use a spell to light my fire.”

“When?”

“About a month and a half ago. Just after the last tournament. The one with, er,” he looks over at Morgana, “Sir William.”

“Why didn’t you turn me in?”

“Do you want me to have turned you in?”

“No,” Merlin answers. “But I always thought that if you knew I had magic you’d have me hanged.”

Arthur considers this, averting his gaze from Merlin. “I don’t know what I would have done. Maybe, a year ago— or even a few months— I’d have done something different, but…” he looks up at Merlin again, “I see you every day, Merlin, I know you… You may be the worst servant in the world, Merlin, but you’re not evil. Besides,” he adds, looking somewhat uncomfortable with his own honesty, “a sorcerer saved my life, and died to do it. I didn’t forget that.”

“Will wasn’t a sorcerer.” Merlin’s not sure why this is what he answers with, why of all the things that have come out of Arthur’s mouth in the last few minutes the fact that he’s still in the dark about Will is what Merlin most needs to address, but whatever the reason is, Merlin suddenly very badly needs Arthur to know the truth. “He— He lied. To protect me, to make sure that I could stay by your side.”

Arthur takes this information in, nodding slowly. “Well. Thank you, then.”

Merlin smiles in spite of himself. “You might want to hold off on thanking me until you hear about all the other times, if you thank me after each one we’ll be here all day.”

Arthur frowns, pulling his head back. “I… _definitely_ want an explanation of that, but I think it might have to wait until we’ve got less to worry about.”

“That’s a good idea,” Merlin confirms, his smile widening. He feels like a weight has lifted off his chest, like a tension constantly coiled up inside him has finally been released and he’s allowed to breath properly since for the first time since he set foot in Camelot. “So you’re really not going to turn us in,” he asks Arthur, feeling a little giddy.

“No. I’m not. I have no intentions of seeing anyone executed.”

Morgana takes a step forward, bringing her hands together. “Well. Now that this is all out of the way, do you think we could get back to more pressing matters?”

Arthur frowns. “Morgana… You’re not going to tell me you knew I’d figured you out?”

“No of course not,” Morgana says breezily, “I was sure you thought that Merlin and I were conducting a romantic liaison.”

“Morgana,” Arthur blinks slowly, “ _why_ would I think that? I’ve never seen you be attracted to a man in your life!”

“Nor will you,” Morgana replied smoothy. “But I could hardly expect you to have realized that, could I?”

“When I asked if you fancied Lord Albans’ son you laughed in my face and told me that you couldn’t begin to imagine finding him appealing even if I clearly did, I _think_ I got the message.”

“Alright!” Gwen moves forward, preempting Morgana’s response. “This has been great, and Arthur I am genuinely very glad that you don’t intend to throw us all in the dungeons or worse, but Morgana brings up a very good point. There’ll be plenty of time to talk about all this after we’ve taken care of figuring out what Alvarr’s up to?”

Arthur nods, immediately swiping into knight mode. “Alright, fill me in, what are you trying to do?”

“Someone's going to try and break into the vaults,” Gwen tells him. “Or at least they _might_ , we want to try and get there first.”

“How’d you find out about this?”

Gwen hesitates, looking to Morgana.

“From a source that shall remain anonymous.” Morgana says.

Arthur sighs. “ _Morgana_ —”

Merlin steps forward, “Morgana, if we're trusting him, then we’re trusting him with all of it.”

Morgana sighs. “Fine. You remember the druid boy?”

The explanation is quick. They don't linger on the finer points, just give Arthur the facts. When they’re done, Arthur pulls one hand down his face, rubbing his jaw.

“Alright. So this... scrying, this is supposed to tell you what Alvarr and his people are doing?”

“That's right.” Morgana nods.

“Alright.” Arthur starts pacing, running his thumb over the ring on his left index finger as he does. "Alright," he repeats after a moment, “And it will be accurate?”

“If we can make sure that it works, yeah.” Merlin watches Arthur nod along as he walks back and forth. “We should be able to see what he’s doing at this moment, and possibly a glimpse into the future. Although—” his eyes dart to Morgana and he chooses his words carefully. “Er, no one can know for certain what's ahead. It’s always possible for the future seen with magic to be... inaccurate.”

They're all silent while Arthur paces, his brow furrowed in thought. Finally, he stops, pivoting to look at them. “Right,” he says, one arm crossed over his chest, the other hand curled under his chin. His thumb is still rubbing over the ring, and Merlin realizes that he’s much more nervous than he’s letting on. “Here’s what we're going to do. Get this whole... _thing_ , set up and find out as much as you can. In the meantime, I'll tell the guards to be on the look out for Alvarr— or, well. A man of the closest description I can give them within reason. What I _won’t_ do,” he scans along the three of them, holding their eyes, “is post any extra guards in the vaults or tell anyone else what Alvarr might be after.”

“Why?” Morgana asks. “If he's still planning on heading here then wouldn't it make more sense that as many people as possible know about it?”

“Not necessarily, if Arthur gives them too much information then they’ll have questions about how he knows, or it’ll get back to Uther.” She looks at Arthur. “That's why isn’t it?”

“Partially.” Arthur nods.

Gwen frowns. “But not entirely?”

Morgana’s expression matches Gwen's as her eyes search Arthur’s face. “Then why is it?"

“Because,” Arthur unfolds his arms, putting his hands on his hips, “if Alvarr really is still planning on coming to Camelot we have to assume that he'll be able to make it past the guards, and if that’s the case then we're going to want the way clear.”

“But why?” Gwen asks, still looking confused.

Merlin answers for him. “We’re going to break into the vaults.”

* * *

The corridors that lead to the vaults are dark. Merlin stays close behind Arthur and hopes that whatever he’s done to get rid of the guards worked. Morgana and Gwen walk close behind him, silently peeling off to stay at the door while he and Arthur continue into the vaults proper. The key makes a grinding sound in the lock as Arthur turns it, and the heavy door creaks on its hinges, making Merlin wince. Arthur pauses, waiting for a moment before he pushes the door the rest of the way and keeps moving.

It hadn’t taken long, considering all the trouble they went through on account of it, for Morgana to successfully find Alvarr and his people through scrying and report that they were, in fact, still planning to break into the vaults. It still took Morgana a few tries, first in the water, then the wine, before she finally successfully managed it with the mirror. Merlin knew the moment it happened, her eyes glowed a bright gold and stayed that way as she stared intently into the glass. Arthur and Gwen both tensed slightly, and Arthur actually pulled back in his seat when it happened. He caught himself, his eyes shooting to Merlin as he let out a slow breath and leant slightly forward again. Merlin had resolutely kept his focus on Morgana, pretending he didn’t notice.

Part of him is annoyed— Arthur’s had weeks to get used to the idea of magic, he should have at least made it far enough to pretend he isn’t terrified of them. Gwen’s had far less time and she’s managing to do more than he is, even if Merlin can tell she’s still adjusting to being so near magic. Another part, one that’s far quieter but just as insistent, is reminding him that Arthur’s spent over two decades being fed Uther’s hatred. It’ll probably take time, and more than a few gentle corrections (and if need be not so gentle ones) before he’s fully accustomed to being in the presence of sorcery.

And that’s the thing, isn’t it? Arthur is going to get used to sorcery. Because Arthur _knows_. He _has known_ for weeks, he found out from something Merlin can’t even remember and didn’t turn him in. By all rights Merlin should be dead.  
He’ll have to talk to Arthur.

At some point— after they’ve sorted out everything with the vault and Alvarr and it’s all over… He and Arthur will have to talk. Merlin almost sighs audibly, anticipating it. He can’t even begin to think about that inevitability, let alone what he’s going to say, so he pushes all of it— Arthur knowing, not being dead, their inevitable need to talk— to the back of his mind. He can deal with that later.

Merlin shakes himself, keeping his attention glued to the dark fabric of Arthur’s jacket as he follows him deeper into the vaults. There’s no clear organization system. At least, none that Merlin can see in the dim light of the torch that he’s carrying (that Arthur watched him light with magic, and wow is he really trying not to unpack the look on Arthur’s face when that happened). Arthur’s moving through the crypt seemingly undirected, looking over this or that, and Merlin realizes it’s going to take them forever at this rate. He stands still and closes his eyes, taking a deep breath.

“ _Merlin_ ,” Arthur hisses in front of him, “what do you think your doing?”

Merlin ignores him. He can feel a kind of static energy in the air, like the air before a lightning strike, making the hair on his arms stand up slightly. He takes another breath, frowning slightly and trying to see if he can— yes. Merlin opens his eyes and looks at Arthur.

“We need to go that way,” he tells him, pointing.

“What?”

“You heard me,” Merlin walks passes him, moving purposefully.

Arthur has to run a bit to catch up with him. “Merlin, are you going to—”

They round a corner and Arthur stops like he’s just hit a wall. On a small pedestal in front of them is a cloudy white crystal, cradled in a dull cushion. It’s shining unnaturally brightly in the faint light of the torch and Merlin can’t take his eyes off it. It seems like there’s something moving on the surface. A reflection of the torch flames, maybe.

Holding his breath, Merlin takes a few steps closer. The moving shapes solidify, becoming a flashing sequence of images, he sees Morgana, Mordred, the two of them meeting in the woods. Then a man and a he doesn’t recognize, both holding swords… Morgana’s eyes flashing gold, Gwen and Arthur lying on the hallway floor, Morgana holding out the crystal to the man, Morgause cradling Morgana’s crumpled body in the middle of the throne room, flames, Kilgharrah swooping over the castle, flames, flames, flames—

“Merlin!”

Something hard collides with the back of his shoulder and he’s knocked sideways, breaking him out of his trance. Arthur his staring at him, tensed, and Merlin shakes himself.

“Come on,” Arthur urges him. “Grab that and let’s get out of here.”

It’s only then that Merlin hears the alarm bells.

“What’s happening?”

“I don’t _know_ ,” Arthur says, teeth clenched, “but since we don’t have any prisoners at the moments, presumably someone’s made it past the guards, so we need to go. _Now_.”

Merlin snatches the crystal off the cushion and turns, running with Arthur towards the exit. They’ve almost made it to the door when they’re both knocked forward onto their faces, winding Merlin and sending the crystal flying into the shadows beyond the door.

Someone pulls him roughly to his feet, and Merlin feels a blade at his throat. Out of the corner of his eye, Merlin can see Arthur, arms pinned behind him.

“Well.” He hears from behind him, and a man emerges from the shadows, his teeth bared in a sinister grin. “It seems like we were expected.”

“Alvarr, I assume?” Merlin asks, trying to keep his tone measured.

The man quirks an eyebrow. “Very expected, it seems.”

“Where are our friends?” Merlin asks.

“Merlin,” Arthur mutters, warning.

Alvarr smirks. “Enmyria,” he calls out.

A woman— Merlin realizes that she was the one in he saw in the crystal— comes into view with another man, leading Gwen and Morgana before her. At the edge of the light fromt he torch, Morgana stumbles, falling to her hands and knees and staying there for a moment before the man hauls her roughly up again.

“I’m so sorry,” Gwen starts as soon as she sees them, “we were going to signal but they ambushed us and we couldn’t—”

Enmyria shoves her. “Quiet.” She looks to Alvarr. “What do you want us to do with them?”

Alvarr looks over the four of them, considering.

Morgana’s eyes search out Merlin’s in the semi-darkness, and she widens them, trying to signal something to him. Merlin frowns at her.

“Unless I’m mistaken we’ve got two very important people in our welcoming party. Your highness,” he smiles, inclining his head just barely to Arthur.

Morgana widens her eyes again and flicks them down, toward where her hands are bound in front of her. Merlin follows her gaze and realizes there’s a glint of something between her fingers, mostly obscured by her long sleeves.

Alvarr turns around slowly to where Morgana and Gwen are standing, smile widening. “And the Lady Morgana.”

Morgana jumps, and whips her head up to look at him.

“You know… a little bird tells me that you’d have good reason to be sympathetic to our cause.”

“A little bird?” Morgana arches one eyebrow, tone incredulous, mocking even. “How mysterious.”

Alvarr snorts, unaffected he takes a step closer to her. “Don’t try to tell me you have no reason to disagree with Uther’s rule. Nothing in the laws that you would change?”

“Morgana,” Merlin starts, “Don’t lis—” the man holding him tugs roughly on his hair and presses the blade a little harder against the flesh of Merlin’s neck.

“Shut up,” he hisses. His breath is hot against Merlin’s ear.

Morgana swallows and holds her head up higher. “And what if there were? What use would it be to you?”

Alvarr takes another step forward. “I could use someone like you. Someone with… influence. In the palace, with Uther.”

Morgana’s hand twitches and Merlin feels his blood freeze. The image of Morgana passing the crystal flashes in front of his eyes.

“All you have to do,” Alvarr’s smile is all teeth, glinting softly in the torch’s light, “is help me find what I’m looking for.”

“Alright.” Morgana nods, taking a step forward. “Let me go and I’ll get it to you.”

“No!” Merlin cries, surging forward.

“It’s for the best Merlin.” Morgana says as the man holding her roughly cuts the rope binding her wrists.

“Morgana,” Gwen starts, looking dismayed, “you can’t honestly—”

Enmyria shoves her again, cutting her off.

“It’s the right thing to do, Gwen,” Morgana tells her.

She takes another step towards Alvarr, holding out her hand, showing him the crystal. His eyes go wide.

“You already have—”

In the next second, Morgana’s kneed him— hard— in the solar plexus and twisted around, pulling the sword from the belt of the man holding her and bringing the hilt down on Alvarr’s head. Beside Merlin, Arthur uses the moment of confusion to kick backward at the man holding him. He swings a punch across his face, so he drops his sword, then grabs it off the ground, levelling it at the bandit holding Merlin.

“Release him.”

The sword at Merlin’s throat clatters to the ground.

Meanwhile, Morgana has tossed the sword she took to Gwen, whose fighting Enmyria with her hands still bound. Morgana takes the sword from Alvarr’s unconscious body, knocking out the man who had been holding her the same way she did Alvarr. Gwen disarms Enmyria in a sweeping, circular strike, and holds the blade out to her throat, adjusting her hands on the hilt.

“What now?” She asks, looking to Arthur, his own sword still held to the side of the other bandit’s throat.

Merlin smiles, stepping forward and extending his hands. “Let me.”

A second later, Enmyria and the two conscious bandits fly backward, crashing into the walls and crumpling to the ground. Gwen, Morgana, and Arthur all stare at him for a moment, their faces bearing varying degrees of shock and interest.

Morgana breaks the silence. “Can you teach me that spell?”

“Later maybe. I—” Merlin breaks off at the sound of approaching footsteps.

They all look at each other, eyes wide.

“Run.” Arthur says immediately. “All of you. I’ll come up with something to tell them. Here.” He moves over to Gwen, cutting the ropes still holding her wrists. “Now go. Quickly.”

He doesn’t need to tell them again.

* * *

“I don’t understand it.”

Merlin was seated across the table from Gaius, his half eaten stew slowly cooling in the bowl in front of him. He poked at the chunks of meat and vegetable and then let the spoon drop, sitting up straighter as he worked through what he was trying to say.

“I saw it, Morgana gave the crystal to Alvarr, he had it. If the crystal really is that powerful why would it have been wrong?”

“I don’t know.” Gaius paused in eating his own stew, resting his hands on the table in front of him and interlacing his fingers. “I can’t say that I know enough about the crystal, or even Seeing in general to say why what you saw would now have come to pass. Perhaps what it shows is not what will happen but merely what might. Maybe something you did prevented it.”

Merlin shakes his head. “I don’t know…” He pokes at his stew again, thinking.

“Where is the crystal now?” Gaius asks.

“Morgana still has it,” Merlin responds. “We’ve agreed to give it to the druids, though, I’m going tomorrow. Even if they don’t want it, they’ll have some idea what to do with it and I trust them to take care of it more than I do anyone else. It certainly shouldn’t still be in the vaults of Camelot.”

“Hmm,” Gaius hums, looking down at his stew again. Merlin’s not sure whether to take that as an agreement or just an acknowledgement of what he’s said.

“Come on, eat your dinner before it gets cold,” Gaius says after a moment. “There’s plenty of time to think it over later.”

* * *

Merlin knocks on Morgana’s door the next morning. She opens it and lets him in, crossing to her vanity and taking the crystal out of the drawer without question.

“Here,” she says, holding it out to him. He takes it, careful not to look directly at the smooth surface.

“Thanks,” Merlin forces a small smile. “Have you looked in it?”

Morgana shakes her head. “No. It tried, but it was just murky. I couldn’t see anything more than shadows.”

Merlin nods, turning the crystal over in his hand. He looks up at Morgana. “Can I… ask you something?”

“What is it?”

“Did you think about doing it? About giving”

Morgana looks surprised at the question. “No. How could I have?”

“I wouldn’t blame you. I don’t think he would have actually followed through on any of what he was saying, or even if he did it probably wouldn’t be in any way that was actually fair and effective but—” Merlin stops himself. He takes a deep breath. “But I can see being tempted by what he offered.”

Morgana hesitates, her eyes flick away from Merlin’s face and one hand comes up to hold her other arm. “For a moment.” Her voice is barely even a whisper and Merlin feels the ghost of another world pass over him. A world where she was more angry, or where he was more scared, where any number of small things went differently and she had actually made the choice to turn her back on them.

She looks up at him again, her eyes wide and apologetic. “I— Merlin, I never would have done it! You, and Gwen, and even Arthur… I never would have betrayed you like that, you have to know that.”

“I do!” Merlin reassures her. The what if’s haven’t happened. It won’t do to dwell on them. “Honestly, Morgana, I know. I just…” He looks down, rubbing his thumb over the hard edge of the crystal in his hand. “I wanted to ask, that’s all.”

Morgana smiles at him. “Of course. I’m glad you’re my friend, Merlin.”

Merlin smiles back. “I am too.”

* * *

There’s one more thing he has to do. It’s late when Merlin gets back to Camelot from the delivering the crystal. Everyone will have finished their dinner and return to their chambers. The halls are quiet and filled with the warm light of torches as Merlin walks along them, letting his feet carry him along the familiar route to Arthur’s chambers. He pulls up short in front of Arthur’s door.

It was easy to face Arthur in the midst of a crisis, when they both had to keep moving, to accomplish the plan, avert disaster. Now that it’s over, in the quiet day to day moments that are going to follow, the simple, everyday moments that lie ahead, Merlin doesn’t know how he’s supposed to manage it.

He’s not sure how long he stands there before he finally manages to raise his hand to knock. Arthur opens the door, looking surprised when he sees who it is.

“Merlin.”

“Sire.” Merlin nods.

Arthur realizes he’s blocking the entrance and takes a step back, opening the door wider as he does. Merlin follows him inside, but stays near the door, standing with his hands clasped behind his back.

“Your trip went well?”

Merlin nods. “Yes. The druids are going to look after the crystal. Mordred was very interested in hearing the whole story.”

“Good. Alvarr and his people are set to be tried in the morning. I’ll do my best to see they don’t get more than exiled.”

“I’m glad.”

They’re both quiet. Arthur shuffles some papers on his desk, moving them into a pile. Merlin stays where he is, looking down at his shoes.

“Oh for— Would you stop that?”

Merlin looks up at Arthur, startled. “Sire?”

“ _That_.” Arthur says, waving his hand at Merlin. “You’re never this quiet unless something’s wrong so out with it.”

Merlin takes a step forward, slowly, carefully. “We need to talk.”

Arthur lets out a slow breath. “Yes. I suppose we do.”

He moves around his desk and crosses the room to his table. He picks up a pitcher and two goblets from the table, filling them each about halfway before setting them deliberately back on the table. He pulls out a chair and sits, nodding to Merlin.

“Come on.”

Merlin moves forward slowly, pulling out his own chair and sitting down. Arthur picks up his goblet and holds it out to Merlin for a toast. Merlin blinks, then picks up his own cup, bringing it up to meet Arthur’s.

“So.” Arthur says on a sigh, putting down his goblet in front of him. “You have magic.”

Merlin almost laughs. “I have magic,” he repeats.

Arthur nods. “And you use it to light fires, and… knock out bandits, and defend your hometown, and— based on what you said when you learned I knew— I’m _guessing_ a number of other things?”

“Er, yes.” Merlin’s lip twitch and he can feel a smile spreading over his face in spite of himself. “I’d say there’s a lot of other things I use it for. Mostly saving your life.”

“Hm.” Arthur lifts his cup again, taking a sip. “Well, I suppose there are worse things to do with it.”

Merlin laughs at that, letting the relief and anxiety bubble out of him.

Sobering, he asks, “What do you want to know?”

“Well…” Arthur takes a deep breath, “If I’m being honest, I’d say everything. But I think the better answer is whatever you want to tell me.”  
Merlin smiles, reaching for the pitcher. “In that case, I guess I should start at the beginning.”


End file.
